Some Other Future's Past
by Chaos-Rose
Summary: An alternate universe wherein the Jedi refuse to train Anakin. Notice up on March 25.
1. Some Other Future's Past 1

Title: Some Other Future's Past

Author: Chaos Rose

Rating: PG-ish

Category: AU splitting off from TPM in which the Jedi refuse to train Anakin.

Archive: No use without permission, please.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I'm just using them for a while. Some characters have had backstory created for them, but remain the property of He Who Wears the Flannel. Original characters among the _dramatis personae_ are of my own creation.

~
    
    Some Other Future's Past

Chapter One

~

The late afternoon sunlight came at a shallow angle through the windows of the Guest's Hall in the Great Palace. On the horizon, anvil shaped thunderheads boiled over the tops of the hills visible from the ten-meter high stained glass windows. In the middle of the Guest's Hall, twelve chairs of Nubian _greel_ wood had been arranged in a semi-circle on the rose marble floor. 

A small green being stood before a tall, somewhat haggard young man who waited with an air of deepest patience to hear what his superiors had to say.

"Trained the boy will not be."

It was one of the few times that Obi-Wan understood just why his master had bucked the Council's edicts so many times. He would have given anything for Qui-Gon's presence and his ability to push the buttons of the younger members of the 'Old Folks home.' Unfortunately, Gui-Gon was comatose in a tank of bacta, recovering from the injuries sustained in his duel with the tattooed Sith.

"But masters, the boy's potential" He might not have his master's facility with words, but he was determined to make the Council see the facts.

Mace Windu cut him off with a brusque gesture. "If that potential is never developed, so much the better. We will return the boy to his mother on Tattooine, from where he never should have been taken."

"You can't send him back there! The Trade Federation will put a price on his head with all the publicity he's received! If the Sith get hold of him they could"

"Do you really believe, Knight Kenobi, that the Sith are concerned at all with a nine-year-old child?" This time it was Ki-Adi-Mundi who interrupted, more mildly than Master Windu, but firmly nonetheless. "Master Jinn is led more by his love of ancient prophecy than of reality. 

"No more argument will we hear! " Yoda's cane struck a sharp report that echoed down the throat of the Hall. "The Council has spoken. Convey our will to the boy you will."

Even as he bowed, Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. He had to speak with Qui-Gon! 

"I believe that Anakin is with the Queen for the morning meal, but I will seek him out after I see my mas I mean, Master Jinn."

The young Knight once thought it impossible to discomfit the entire Council, but not a one of them could meet his gaze.

"Taken back to Coruscant, Qui-Gon Jinn has been. Healers will see to him during his retreat." Yoda folded his hands on the knob of his cane, fixing Obi-Wan with a gimlet stare. "Unbalanced has he become, in need of solitude and meditation he is so that he might know the will of the Force."

Obi-Wan's knees nearly unhinged in shock. Enforced retreat was a punishment second only to expulsion. To even think about his life-loving master in such straits was even more distressing than seeing him struck by the Sith's blade.

"You are dismissed, Knight Kenobi. Make arrangements for the boy's return to his homeworld." Mace Windu stood, wrapping himself is robes and finality. "We will speak with you at length upon your return to Coruscant."

The Council filed out, leaving Obi-Wan Kenobi staring at a crescent of empty chairs and wondering why he was so worried at what the young Nubian Queen was going to do when she heard of the Council's edict.

~

The Great Palace was one of a half dozen in what the Nubians called the Palace Complex. Along with office buildings, the planetary and system legislatures, archives, libraries, and a handful of different educational institutions, the ceremonial center of the Nubian government took up the larger part of the Theed plateau. 

It was also pure hell for a newcomer to navigate. 

The Nubian love of architecture and landscape blended with their passion for ornament to produce buildings and gardens of startling beauty. Pocket-sized parks and grottoes presented themselves at every opportunity. The wood and stone used to make the buildings, roads, and pathways was designed to draw the eye and invite admiring inspection.

Obi-Wan was reduced to asking passers-by and cleaning crews how to find Padmé Amidala's private residence. He could not withhold this information from young Anakin, he felt it would be a betrayal of trust.

A grimace grossed his face and something inside him stung sharply. Anakin did not have much trust to be placed in anyone - his mother, Master Jinn, Ric Ollie and Padmé seemed to constitute the whole list. The boy had been deeply distressed at Qui-Gon's injuries, and to a lesser extent by Obi-Wan's. The child thought that Jedi were invincible – it had been a terrible shock for him to see graphic evidence otherwise.

The courtesy of the Nubian people made him vaguely ashamed of the Council. The Nubians were so proud that their 'small protector' was to be trained as a Jedi and that the Jedi had sacrificed so much to protect Naboo. All of them asked after Master Jinn and congratulated him on his Knighting. They commented that perhaps a Knighting feast was in order, all the while eyeing his loosened clothing. Some speculated in firm voices that Knight Kenobi might find the Water Garden a soothing place to rest.

He must have lost his Jedi serenity somewhere between the Garden of Sands and the dizzily mosaic-covered steps of the Nubian Hall of the People. A small, elderly man in elaborate scarlet and saffron robes pulled him aside and pressed a flattened oval of some heavy, glassy substance into Obi-Wan's palm. 

"Just tell it where you want to go. Nubian or Basic, the locator will understand." 

The man patted Obi-Wan's cheek at his thanks and moved off down the winding brick pathway.

"The Queen's Palace." Obi-Wan felt his ears heat as he carefully enunciated the words. The thing in his hand ticked and then tugged to the left. Obi-Wan moved to the left and the object vibrated as long as he moved to the left. 

With trial and error, the young Knight found himself at the waterfall-carved steps of the Queen's Palace just as the threatened storm broke loose overhead. It was as if someone had decided to overturn a moon-sized bucket of water onto Theed. Even with the speed with which he ascended the steps – now a waterfall in truth – Obi-Wan was still drenched to the skin. Once inside, he used the Force to separate the excess water from his robes and settled for finger-combing his short auburn hair.

His finger found his padawan braid and he blinked back tears rose to his eyes. He was tired, he hadn't even had time to eat or meditate, and on top of it all he missed his master. 

A guardsman approached and when asked, told him that the queen was in her rooms with her handmaidens and young Skywalker had last been seen in the Courtyard of the Fishes. A gesture and smile from Obi-Wan met the guardsman's offer of escort and they set off though the halls of the castle. 

Smaller and more intimate than the Great Palace, the Queen's Palace was colorful, decorated with murals and frescoes of Nubian Queens and their deeds. Soft carpets muffled footsteps and the sinuous curves of wood and stonework bespoke both femininity and strength. 

Obi-Wan reflected that these summer downpours must happen often enough that the architects and artisans of Theed incorporated them into their designs. Water pillars and even whole glass walls were alive with rippling water. Sculptured people and beasts rode fountain waves and one angelic being had wings of water. So busy with looking around was the Jedi that he ran right into the back of his escort who now stared gape-mouthed into a courtyard filled with waving greenery and sculpted water-spouting colored stone fish.

And right in the middle of the courtyard, standing on a stone bench and staring pop-eyed all around him was Anakin – soaked to the skin.

"Anakin!" What was the boy thinking?

Obi-Wan's shout was met with a grin of astounding brilliance and a whoop of utter joy.

"Water falling from the sky, Obi-Wan! I knew about rain but there's so much of it!" Anakin threw back his head to let the rain fall right into his mouth, with an expression that suggested he was drinking the nectar of gods. 

The irritation softened somewhat. The desert child had only heard of rain and this might well be his first and last experience with it. Let him have his joy.

Something inside Obi-Wan balked at that thought. Part of him protested that the boy could no more go back to Tatooine than Obi-Wan could go back to the womb. The boy's principal skills were racing and fixing things. If the child survived the prices even now being put on his head, it was likely that he would die in a racetrack crash. 

There had to be another way. Qui-Gon would find one, and Obi-Wan was determined to make one. 

"Anakin, come out of the rain. We've got some things to talk about." Something in his voice must have tripped the boy's warning system. Obi-Wan thought that a child should not be capable of such a sharp-eyed look.

"Couldn't I just stay until the shower is over?" There was no real hope in his voice, but he obviously felt that he had to try on principle. 

"Anakin, the rain will probably last for hours, if not all night. It will rain tomorrow, the day after and every evening for the rest of the season." Anakin's eyes went wider with each word and he stared at the Jedi as if Obi-Wan had predicted that he would grow another head. "Now, come in and get dry."

Hopping off the bench, the youngling splashed gleefully up to the passageway and squished to a stop in front of Obi-Wan. An impudent light gleamed in his blue eyes and his hair was plastered darkly against his head as he regarded the knight with an air of challenge.

Obi-Wan made a pass with one hand and the water that had been in Anakin's clothing splashed around his feet. 

"I need to see Her Majesty, as well," Obi-Wan could not quite mask the solemn tone in his voice. "The events I must relate will be of concern to her."

Once again, the sharp-eyed stare, this time with a subtle stiffening of the boy's usual mobile features. It was the face he had seen on Coruscant as the boy dealt with the rejection of the Council. Anakin was readying himself for another blow, even the muscles in his body seemed to tighten in anticipation. 

Anakin did not speak, but instead gestured for Obi-Wan to follow him. As they passed down exquisite hallways, Obi-Wan could feel the child's pain and misery increase. Attempts at conversation were met with monosyllabic responses or more penetrating gazes. Anakin did not trust Obi-Wan any more than he would a complete stranger, and that hurt the Jedi deeply. Still, that pain had been placed in the child's heart by the very people he had idolized – and Obi-Wan pledged to himself that he would heal that pain. 

"In here. It's almost dinner time." Anakin's voice was suspiciously rough. "Padmé will want you to join us."

'Here' was a set of four-meter-high doors carved with fruit and flowers that opened into a sizable circular room with a view of the Lesser Falls. The floor of colored stone was intricately worked in flower-colors to resemble a garden, and the central supporting column was a stylized tree with countless curving branches.

"Ani? I was going to come looking for you," the young queen came toward them, smiling. Her elaborate robes were nowhere in evidence, she was dressed instead in a slightly richer version of the tunic and leggings she had worn on Tattooine. "Where were oh! Knight Kenobi, welcome."

Anakin wrapped his arms around the young woman and hugged her hard enough to squeeze the breath out of her. Just as abruptly he released her and - mumbling something about washing up for dinner – fled the room.

The young woman - girl, really, to Obi-Wan's thinking – watched the boy race down the hall and disappear into one of the rooms.

"It's about Anakin, isn't it?" she asked softly. "Whatever you came to find me for concerns him, and Master Qui-Gon's removal from Naboo?"

"You knew about that?" Obi-Wan turned to regard her with some surprise.

"I was denied permission to see him and told that he was being taken back to the Jedi Temple." Padmé was nowhere in evidence. Amidala, Queen of Naboo, spoke with royal displeasure in every word. "I was told that my concerns would be relayed to him when he was ready to receive them. They spoke of him as if he was a criminal under arrest, Jedi Kenobi."

"Your Highness, I only just learned of this myself. Please be assured that I am as perturbed by the circumstances as you are. He is my master, my father" It was a measure of how very tired he was – he thought that his agitation was so close to the surface. After his battle with the Sith and nearly losing his master, Obi-Wan felt as if he was walking around in someone else's nightmare.

"Peace, Knight Kenobi. My temper is not what it should be lately." Amidala patted him gently on the arm and led him over to the windows. The Lesser Falls and the rain outside smelled wonderful – alive and vital. He could see why Anakin had been so delighted. "Anakin and I take our meals together. Please stay and join us this evening? I was unable to reach you before."

Obi-Wan just nodded wearily; nothing could surprise him now. "We must discuss Anakin"

"We will. Now just have a seat here," she soothed. "I'll come and get you as soon as dinner is ready to be served." 

The embrasures of the windows held softly padded seats, thick with pillows. Obi-Wan found himself sinking into one and listening to the falls. As he watched the young woman leave he wondered if perhaps Anakin was not the only Force-strong youngling here. 

~

Padmé raced down the hallway that led to her private rooms and blew through the doors to the sitting room as if being chased by droidekas. Yané, Sabé, and Eritaé all leaped to their feet with blasters in hand.

"Yané, get Governor Bibble on the comm and tell him to get here as fast as he can. Have him bring Justice Aspa with him. I also want you to get Captain Panaka and have him and Captain Ollie come, as well. Get on it." 

Yané saluted and all but flew to the comm station. Cordé, Dormé and Rabé came roaring into the room hot on each other's heels.

"Sabé, I need you to get to the Protectorate of the Innocents and have Erinaé Merron come here. Go in person, tell her the matter is urgent." Padmé found herself pacing, filled with energy as if a basin under the Greater Falls. "Eritaé, go to Anakin's rooms and tell him that he should dress for dinner. If he gives you any backchat, you have permission to treat him like your younger brother. Stuff him into the clothing if you have to."

Anakin, if the Jedi had rejected him yet again as she had feared

No matter. He had saved Naboo, and the people of Naboo would have him as their own heart-child. 

"Dormé, please go to the Senator's Palace and ask Chancellor Palpatine to come with all haste."

What about Obi-Wan Kenobi? He'd be facing the wrath of the Jedi Council if the stone-faced statues she had spoken to were any indication. She'd have to find a way to protect him and Master Jinn, too.

Orders given, handmaidens flew like jewel-toned ghosts. Rabé and Cordé moved for the wardrobe, as Padmé began to shake out her hair. 

"Is it that bad, my Lady?" Rabé looked stricken, her older brother had been one of the first fighter pilots to die. Anakin's luck had ensured that her other brother had made it home. 

Padmé hugged the woman who was all but her sister. "Knight Kenobi would not have come in looking as if he had swallowed something vile if it wasn't. I want Ani protected. If the Jedi are fools enough to let him go, then let their stupidity be Naboo's gain."

~

The room was small by the standards of royalty, but to Anakin, it was palatial. The carpet underfoot was soft enough for a mattress, and posts and beams of a pale, striped wood framed the blue stone walls. Outside, the Lesser Falls filled the room with a rumbling white noise than Anakin found most relaxing. He could sit for hours with his eyes closed and simply listen. Even better, he had not had one nightmare since he'd been here. 

Nobody had quite known what to do with him, so Padmé had brought him to the wing where her family stayed when they were visiting. It served as a sanctuary as few people followed him here, other than Padmé or her handmaidens – though right now even the presence of pretty Eritaé was something he could have done without. 

She was _fussing_ at him. 

Bad enough that she came busting into the 'fresher when he did not even so much as have his smallclothes on – but she had nearly tried to scrub him herself! He'd chased her from the room with the spray from the shower massage and a fierce-sounding barrage of Huttese, Toyardian and Rodian. She had been penitent and allowed him his privacy, but made him promise to teach her Huttese. 

Now, as he stood and tried not to fidget, plenty of hotter words in a variety of languages were bouncing about inside his head. He'd never, ever say them to a lady, but being stuffed into rich clothing and being fussed over was wearing at his nine-year-old's capacity for tolerance. 

Someone had ordered clothing and footwear for him. It had simply shown up in his wardrobe a few days ago. Rich, dark jewel tones and soft fabrics seemed too fancy for his tastes and activities. He simply left them where they appeared, while continuing to wear what he had brought with him from home. 

It had been a battle royal to talk Eritaé into letting him pick the least ornamented of the clothing. The dark blue matte silk tunic and matching trousers with the silver-gray undertunic were as fancy as he was willing to get - he was not about to dress like a Mos Eisley hire-pretty! 

Twitching the last fold of the formal sash into place, Eritaé stood back to study him and nodded in satisfaction.

"Heavens, Ani, you're a handsome lad! You're going to be a real heartbreaker in a few years."

Anakin blushed. He was not going to break hearts, there was one in particular that he wanted to guard from harm. 

"Pinch my cheek, Eritaé, and I'll make you think that the falls came in through the window!" he mumbled, frowning at his black-booted feet. "What's going on? I thought that we were just having dinner."

Eritaé looked somber, which made Anakin all the more concerned – she tended to be as much as a joker as he was. 

"Anakin, you know that we would never let anything happen to you. It might not be the case everywhere, but here on Naboo everyone has the right to self-determination." She crouched to look at him face-to-face. "We will protect you, the Queen, us handmaidens, all of Naboo. Do you trust us?"

Anakin was surprised at her vehemence and reached out a tentative hand to pat her on the shoulder. 

" 'Course I trust you, Irritant."

The jest had the desired effect of making her mock-scowl and take a swing at him. "Just you wait, Tattooine Terror! I knew that you put the little air bladders in my court slippers. Poor Padmé nearly died trying not to laugh as I farted my way down the aisle. I'd turn you over to my brothers, but you'd just come back with more ideas."

Eritaé's comunit chimed, calling her to come get dressed. She left, after a hug that nearly squeezed him flat, admonishing him not to undo all her hard work and reminding him to take his comm and locator if he went anywhere.

He tried to read for a while, but other thoughts and fears jumbled through his concentration until he found himself reading the same paragraph three times. Browsing the holonet for live games kept him occupied for a short time – there were some great sim rooms where he could pilot a freighter through the Kessel run or fly into combat in new Headhunter.

Ultimately, Anakin's wayward thoughts returned to his fate. His chest tightened and his eyes stung a little, he had never thought he could ever be homesick. Right now he wanted a ruby bliel so bad that he could almost taste it and would gladly take his mother's scolding for ruining his dinner. 

_Mom! I'm here! I'm fine! I love you so much!_ Anakin sent the clearest images he could manage into the space around him, hoping maybe some vestige of them might find their way to a small house in Mos Espa.

Qui-Gon had not been allowed to train him, and had given the Council his word that he would not. The canny Master Jedi had, however, instructed Anakin to do something that Anakin did very well – observe. Not just watch, not just listen, but to keep his whole being open as he did when pod-racing. It was then that Anakin was one with the Force, and he could intuit how to use the Force – or to let the Force use him - when he was in that state. 

Not that it was likely that he would learn much more. Anakin had been denied permission to see Master Jinn when he was in the medical facility. The Jedi who had been guarding the door had looked at him in such a way that for one of the few times in his life Anakin had felt less. It was worse than being a slave, even worse than Sebulba's taunts. 

It hurt in a way he could not describe, but one that made him angry. Every thing that was, even rocks, had a place in the Force – so Master Jinn told him. To be so completely dismissed as 'a pathetic lifeform' was an insult that he had no idea how to answer, even if there was a way to answer it. Maybe when he was older he'd find a way.

For a moment, he considered going down to the workshops in the bowels of the castle. There were a lot of 'droids and devices that had suffered damage in the siege and the battle. Fixing things would give him some relief from the uncertainties of the future.

Then Eritaé would skin him alive for getting lubricant, oils and carbon all over his fancy clothing. If what was going on was important enough to require his wearing them, Padmé might help her. 

For an angel, she had quite a temper. 

Instead, he walked over to the windows and opened the casement, letting the thunder of the falls and the patter of rain into the room. 

All this water fascinated him. Just the rain from this afternoon would make a moisture farmer dance with joy. A full day of it would be a good season. A whole season of it it was incomprehensible. Even in the daily use of water he felt almost profligate – not even the richest on Tattooine ever sat in a tub of water. Bathing was accomplished by a spray of surfactants and astringents, followed by a spraying of water to rinse off.

Here, water was everywhere. Fountains and rivers, lakes and streams of it! Jar-Jar had even fitted him with a rebreather mask and taken him under the water to Otoh Gunga. Anakin had been simply delirious. Naboo had become as beautiful and precious to him as well as Padmé had become. 

Anakin took a deep breath of the moisture-laden air and closed his eyes. He imagined the water of the falls pouring through him, washing out all the jagged fears and uncertainties, leaving his mind as clear and peaceful. 

~*~


	2. Some Other Future's Past 2

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter Two

~

Small hands pushed vigorously against Obi-Wan's shoulder, rocking him from sleep.

"Hsst!" 

One of the initiates no, he hadn't been at the Temple in weeks 

"Hsst! Come on, Obi-Wan! Wake up!" The rocking became more insistent and Obi-Wan grudgingly opened his eyes. 

Anakin's pushing changed to a determined pulling as soon as he ascertained Obi-Wan was conscious. "C'mon, there's a big-deal dinner starting soon and you've got bed-head."

Clearing the fog from his brain with a meditation technique, Obi-Wan wondered how long her had slept to be feeling this refreshed. Obi-Wan glanced around the room as he allowed Anakin to pull him upright. It was now full dark and the lights hanging from the branches of the stylized tree were dim. 

"What dinner?" The Jedi swung his feet to the floor and allowed himself a bone-popping stretch. "I thought you were supposed to eat hours ago."

The boy was not dressed in his habitual desert-drab colors, but in midnight blue silks that made him quite striking.

"Yeah, so did I." Anakin held up a pair of thermpacks. "Whatever Padmé's doing has the whole palace hustling. I went to the kitchens and got a snack and when I came back in, I heard you snoring."

"I think I've been forgotten about." Obi-Wan ignored the remark about his snoring. "I never even got a chance to speak to Her Majesty, she just plunked me here and ran off."

Anakin grunted as if he knew quite well what the subject was and waved a hand toward one of the corridors. "You can straighten up in my room. There's a clothing press in the 'fresher."

"Thank you, Anakin."

The room, decorated in serene blues and earth tones was filled with the sound of rushing water. Anakin pointed to the 'fresher with a nod and shrug that said 'help yourself.' Obi-Wan simply nodded, went in and shut the door behind him. He had gotten off on the wrong foot with Anakin and had been hopping ever since trying to get back in step.

Since he had no clue when this 'big deal dinner' might be, he settled for running his clothing through a short cleaning cycle and a fast shower for himself. The minor injuries he had sustained in the battle were much relieved by pulsing streams of hot water. Once suitably clean, de-stubbled and fresh of breath he donned his robes and went back out into the room.

Every window facing the falls was open and Anakin sat in one of the window seats, sipping at a steaming mug. 

"_Timatya_ soup, there's a mug on the table if you want some." Anakin indicated the thermpacks. "The rolls are really good, too."

Obi-Wan poured himself a mug of the rich red broth and took one of the recommended herb-scented rolls, still warm from the oven. Settling himself across from Anakin on the window seat, he applied himself to the food for a few minutes before looking at his host. 

"Thank you, Anakin. With everything that's been going on, I haven't had much time to eat or sleep."

Anakin nodded, never taking his eyes from the falls. "You're welcome."

"I also I wanted to apologize. I said some things that I should have thought about, and I said some things in anger. Master and I were able to mend our rift, but I've managed to open a canyon between us." Obi-Wan set the mug on the windowsill and extended his hand. "I'm sorry. I'd like the chance to do better."

Anakin regarded him with some skepticism. "Do you think I'm dangerous?"

The question was loaded and Obi-Wan too care to frame his response. "I do not think that you yourself are dangerous, Anakin. Nor did my master. I think that your potential in the Force combined with your temper gives you a capacity to become very dangerous. On one hand, you can be very good-natured, but when fear or anger gets a good grip on you, you might act in ways that you would later regret."

Anakin simply watched, sipping at his soup, obviously waiting for more.

"I think that since you were brought up outside the temple, you react in ways that alarm the Council. To them, you are a young wild animal, and they are uncertain if you will bite." Obi-Wan picked up his mug and took a sip before continuing. "It is also my opinion that you are potentially much more dangerous left untrained. There's another Sith out there, somewhere."

"They don't want me, do they?" Anakin whispered. 

"No, Anakin, they don't." Obi-Wan laid a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "The Council ordered me to make arrangements to have you returned to Tattooine."

The boy abruptly took a huge gulp of the soup, still hot enough to redden his face and make his eyes water. 

"Soup's too hot. I I guess it'll be all right. I'll be glad to see Mom again, I've missed her real bad. And Watto'll have to pay me if he wants anything to work. I can build another pod, Kitster will like that, and I've got a couple of years before I'm too big to race" The words tumbled out at a frantic pace, propelled by fear and misery. Taken away from one life, shut out of another, and about to lose a chance at a third, the boy was lost in events that he could not understand fully, much less control.

"Anakin"

"After that, I can build pods. I've got a tweak worked out for Radon-Ulzers that can boost the power-up by"

"Anakin." Obi-Wan allowed a touch of calming influence to reach the boy and pull him out of the emotional tailspin. "You are not going back to Tattooine. Nobody is going to let them sweep you under the rug, least of all me."

"But"

"My master would never allow it, and I will not allow it in his absence. I also doubt that the Council took into account the feelings of the Naboo, the Gungans, or of the Queen." Using his napkin, he dabbed at the boy's eyes. "Now, this 'big deal dinner,' tell me everything that led up to it."

Anakin related what little he knew, concentrating particularly on Eritaé's actions. The young queen could be very decisive when concerned for those she cared about, Obi-Wan would just have to see to it that the Jedi influence was not lost altogether. He wanted Anakin safely on Naboo and watched over by people who cared for him. Especially since - Obi-Wan thought grimly – he had unfinished business awaiting him on Corucant.

The boy's keen blue-eyed gaze rested on Obi-Wan, now. The Jedi was gratified to feel that Anakin had moved him into the 'Trust Some' column in his mental accounting.

"Anakin, have you ever been to a formal event here?" The boy shook his head, and he continued. "I want you to observe me very closely, just do what I do at the table and you'll be fine. I've been to so many state dinners I could do the ettiquette in my sleep. Now, where's the comm? I should let Queen Amidala know where I got off to"

~

When Obi-Wan and Anakin were escorted into one of less formal dining rooms in the Queen's Palace, it was fairly obvious where Queen Amidala's heart lay in this matter. The young monarch was dressed in the same midnight blue as young Anakin, but with silver embroidery and lace ornamenting the bodice, layered skirt, and tiered sleeves. A less severe mode of the ritual make-up was applied and moonstones were scattered through the braids of her dark hair. The handmaidens were attired in a less ornamented version of the same color, and all the young women exuded a fierce protectiveness and pride. 

Of the other quests present, some were familiar. Sio Bibble, the system governor was present, as was Mero Palpatine who had lately been Naboo's senator and was now Chancellor of the Republic. The two men were conversing with a third in gray and blue robes – a round, gentle-looking, moon-faced man - who Obi-Wan remembered from his mission briefing as Kirawe Aspa, Justice-in-Chief of the High Court of Naboo. Captain Panaka and Captain Olié were present in dress uniforms and listening intently to one of the handmaidens as she spoke to a tall, spare woman with striking silver hair. Occasionally one of the men would add something to the conversation, whether in support or opposition Obi-Wan could not tell. 

The queen had the makings of a fine stew simmering already, perhaps Obi-Wan might help stir the pot. 

Anakin was simply tongue-tied when Amidala smiled at him. Obi-Wan had to give the boy a hard poke with the Force to get him to follow his lead. They managed to bow in perfect Nubian court form, completely in unison. 

"At your service, Queen Amidala." 

"Be welcome and at peace within the House of Naboo," came the traditional response. "My apologies for leaving you so abruptly, Knight Kenobi." Obi-Wan knew that he – as a Jedi – was on thin ice with the queen. "I am pleased that you and Anakin seem to have had a chance to speak."

"Indeed, Majesty, we have spoken at some length." Obi-Wan smiled slightly at the youngster and was relieved to receive a quick, shy smile in return.

The queen looked to Anakin for confirmation.

"It's okay, Pa ah Your Highness. I know. Obi Jedi Kenobi told me that the Council refused to train me." Anakin sounded calm, but there was still a slight edge to his voice – one that Obi-Wan could fully understand as it was also in his own – but he would have to help the boy find his peace.

"Did he also tell you that Master Jinn has been taken back to Coruscant?" Chancellor Palpatine joined the group. "As he was your legal guardian, young Skywalker, that leaves you as a displaced juvenile. If the Jedi have abdicated their duty as your guardians, then that makes you a ward of the Republic."

"Your pardon, Chancellor, if he was a citizen that might be so. But while the Council has declined to train him, my master has not revoked nor has any authority I am aware of revoked his guardianship." There was something about the man that did not smell quite right to Obi-Wan. Perhaps it was his own life-long disdain for the chicaneries and charades of politics, but "Only his mother can rescind the order, or in the event of her incapacity, the High Court of the Republic itself."

"You are not your master, Padawan Kenobi"

"Knight Kenobi." Anakin spoke up softly. 

"Eh?" Palpatine appeared somewhat nettled.

"He was knighted after he killed that Sith, the tattooed man who hurt Master Jinn." Anakin elaborated.

"Ah do forgive me, yes, I should have remembered that. Thank you, lad." The senior statesman patted Anakin gingerly on head. " Please, Knight Kenobi, put my lapse down to the stress of recent events and accept my wholehearted congratulations."

The man's sentiments and smile rang false to Obi-Wan, but he bowed and murmured something innocuous and courteous. 

"But all the same, Knight Kenobi, I cannot think that a man of your – pardon me – scarce years knows much about raising younglings. I'm given to understand that most Jedi seldom take a padawan before their middle years?" Again, the not-quite-right smile. "You have some time to go, yet!'

Obi-Wan was now the center of attention, while the Queen stood behind Anakin, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. 

The young Jedi allowed a self-deprecating smile to cross his face. "Well, Chancellor, Jedi my age take turns watching over initiates, but I would not feel confident enough in my own abilities right now to take the responsibilities of a padawan. Until my master is recovered, I am simply taking his place as guardian." Smiling around the room at the Queen and her handmaidens, he commented, "I've all the help I might wish for, here to hand."

The spare, silver haired woman glided up to them and looked Obi-Wan over. If Palpatine made Obi-Wan feel like he was fighting a duel in the dark, this woman made him feel that he had been weighed, measured, turned inside out, studied in intimate detail and put right-side in again. He found himself glad that he had taken the time to launder his socks and smallclothes. 

"Your place? Your place is probationary, young man. Anakin Skywalker is within my jurisdiction as Protector of Innocents, and as such he has the same right of self-determination that Naboo extends to every being, refugee or citizen." The woman folded herself down to speak to Anakin. "You are not anyone's property, child, and none may treat you as such. There are those who can help you decide your course, but none may choose that course but you."

"I am afraid, gentlebeings, that I must side with the esteemed Protector Erinaé," Justice Aspa moved with a rolling walk to join the group. "With the young man's legal guardian being incapacitated, the responsibility for Anakin Skywalker falls to the people and institutions of Naboo – not to the Republic, or to the Jedi. Furthermore, as his mother is still alive, the law requires that reasonable effort be made to contact her and to reunite them if they so wish."

Anakin looked like he was about to pass out. He was literally staggered by all of this and Obi-Wan reached out a mental 'hand' to steady him.

"Ani," Amidala spoke now and the youngster looked up at her. "I'm sorry that I dropped all this on you, but I wanted to get this settled now without delay from the courts. Do you want to stay here?"

"More than anything." The statement was simple, with no vehemence or gesticulation, but so strong with the truth that it needed neither. 

"Even more than the chance to be a Jedi?" Obi-Wan questioned, even if he knew the answer, it had to be made by Anakin.

"Obi-Wan, I like you and I love Master Jinn, but if you train me you'll get in trouble. I think maybe Master Jinn is in trouble because of me." A frown passed across the boy's features like a cloud momentarily dimming the sun. "You might want me, but the Council doesn't. Even if they changed their minds, I'd always wonder if they accepted me for me, or because" 

The words trailed off as Anakin hunted for words to fit the concept, but Obi-Wan understood anyway. 

"Anakin, trouble with the Council is something my master considers part of his duty as a Jedi. As his padawan, I feel obliged to carry on the tradition while he is incapacitated." 

_Not to mention being held against his will_

Obi-Wan continued, "I'll stay a while and teach you the basics of meditation, shielding, concentration and such before I have to return to Corucant."

Eyebrows raised around the room, but nobody ventured an opinion. Jedi business was, after all, Jedi business.

Captain Panaka spoke into the silence. "As Handmaiden Yané has pointed out to me, the position of page was often given to younglings who were without other guardians. The provisions were redacted in time of war and have never been annulled. Education, stipends, and trusts are all laid out in the Court Archives." 

"There are – regrettably - a wealth of youngsters in my care who would do well with a such a position, Your Majesty." Protector Erinaé bowed to the queen. "There are so many young ones left kinless. With your permission, I will send as many suitable candidates as I can find or the palaces can hold."

"Make it so." Amidala's voice was tinged with a deep sadness even as she smiled and squeezed Anakin's hands in her own. 

~ 

Dinner was a slightly raucous affair. The Justice, the Protector and the Chancellor all pled early engagements and left, promising to be at the Morning Court for the announcements and proclamations. With no dramatically dignified adults to act as ballast, the younger contingent had a rollicking time. 

Obi-Wan found himself having as good a time as the youngsters. There were plenty of jokes and songs – some of which skirted the line of propriety – as well as good food and drink. Ric Olié was deep in discussion with Anakin and Panaka at one point concerning fighter engines, but for the most part the evening was devoted light-hearted fun. 

The evening wound down with the captains leaving first. Then the handmaidens going off to their beds by ones and twos with a hug and a kiss for Anakin – and usually one for Obi-Wan as well. If Anakin's return hug and kiss for the Queen was a little too familiar, Obi-Wan was willing to overlook it. Padmé needed a friend when she was not being Amidala, and once someone had Anakin Skywalker's loyalty, Obi-Wan had the feeling it was for life. 

Finally, he and Anakin stumbled back to Anakin's room. Obi-Wan too the huge, soft bed. Anakin took half the blankets to one of the wide, deep window seats and was asleep almost before the second syllable of 'good night.'

Sometime later, Obi-Wan was awakened by a soft movement of air as the door opened and closed. A slender figure stole across the carpet, finding its way unerringly to the embrasure where Anakin was sleeping.

"Hey, Pad." Obi-Wan could barely hear the whisper over the sound of the falls.

There was something that sounded like a sniffle. "Hey." 

"Nightmares again?"

The shadow nodded as another small shadow rose up and wrapped a blanket around it. 

"C'mon. I even got extra blankets." 

The shadow's answer was a barely muffled sob.

Some time later, all was quiet. Sounds of deep, even breathing spoke for peaceful sleep. Obi-Wan stood and crept over to the window and peered down into a nest of pillows and blankets to see young Padmé in a cocoon of blankets, Anakin wrapped in another and curled up to her back as if protecting her.

~

Padmé awoke to a swirling white fog. The casement window was open and the morning's damp chill made her long to stay here, curled up in the blankets until the sun burned off the mists. It was invariable that she wakened at this hour – some two hours before sunrise – to start her day. The solitude was something that she had come to need, giving her time to order her thoughts and perspective. 

She glanced around the darkened room, the downlighting making it fairly easy to see what was where. Since the hurly-burly days after her return to Naboo, she had been spending an inordinate amount of time here. At first, it was to keep an eye on Ani, who seemed equally determined to keep an eye on her. Though she felt very silly about it, she could not shake the feeling that Anakin's safety insured the safety of Naboo. 

It was silly. It was even childish. But in the course of her day and her official functions it had become a touchstone. A place of calm inside the aftermath of a nightmare made real.

When the true extent of the Trade Federation's atrocities had been ascertained, Padmé had been horrified. 

Men, women and children had been herded wholesale into prefab barracks on plascrete pads. There had been minimal sanitation, substandard food and little to nothing in the way of health care. It had not taken long for the very old, the very young, and the ill to fall victim to opportunistic infections - the infirmaries were still jammed to capacity with them. Those who were injured in battle were dumped into the camps with no treatment and soon succumbed to septicemia, gangrene or the severity of their injuries. Resistance – quite loosely defined by Nute Gunray and his ilk – was met with blaster fire.

Over twenty million Nubians were confirmed dead, nearly one tenth of the population. The numbers for the Gungans were not yet in, but as Jar-Jar had gently said, 'Wesa all got cryin'. Not no one without some pain.'

In her capacity as queen, she had visited the camps and the hospitals. Perhaps the most horrifying stop was the city of Sia, which had lost all of its people to a sterilization bomb when an outbreak of Break-bone fever was discovered. The buildings were all intact, but nothing lived within a ten-kilometer radius of ground zero. Only the paper-dry corpses of her population remained, falling to dust within days and scattering on the summer winds.

Almost as bad had been dealing with the collaborators among her own people. The Trade Federation kept meticulous records, finding the offenders had taken little time at all. Naboo had not imposed capital punishment in thousands of years. As a planet that owed its founding to refugees from many wars, Naboo prided itself on acceptance of differences in politics, religion, race and creed. With the programs in place to help children find their innate abilities, most would-be criminals tended to be caught and treated before they could commit crimes. 

Now the people wanted the traitors among them dead. Some had already obliged by committing suicide, but planet-wide there were thousands more. Some had sold their neighbors out for no other reason than some petty slight or material gain. Padmé might feel one way, but Amidala was queen and the law was the law. For most, life in a penal colony deep in the system's asteroid belt would serve, but part of Amidala died with each capital case that appeared on the High Court's dockets.

Then the nightmares had started. In some, the red-and-black tattooed Sith pursued her through the empty halls and plazas. In others, she hugged her mother and father only to have them stiffen, cry out in horrible pain and then fall to dust. In the worst of them, her people came to her, asking why she had not stopped this and why she had not protected them. They wore bloody wounds, signs of starvation, sickness and of death casually dealt. 

Sleep became something that she dreaded. One night, after a particularly bad dream of black-cloaked Sith killing Anakin, she had been unable to go back to sleep. Haunted by visions of the boy strangled in his bed, she had pulled on leggings and a tunic and gone to check on him. At first she had walked the night-dim corridors toward the family wing – but she found herself outside Anakin's door, out of breath from running and with sobs hitching in her chest.

The boy had come out the door with a decorative sword taken from the wall in his room, looking to do battle with whatever had frightened her so badly. Once he figured out all that was chasing her was her nightmares, he had been deeply sympathetic. He hadn't laughed at her, or told her to spend some time with a Psy-droid, or even to get a grip. Instead, Anakin let her nearly mash him flat and cry until she felt hollow. 

When she awoke, she was actually rested and buried in a pile of pillows and blankets with her small protector guarding her back. There had been no judgement, just concern and care. For some inexplicable reason, this child loved her, and with that love went a loyalty and faith that was almost frightening. 

Anakin slept deeply, but roused when she slipped out of the window seat. 

"Sleep good?"

"Yes, I did." She arranged the blankets back over him. "See you at breakfast?"

"Mmmhmmph." He rolled over and dropped back into sleep. 

Creeping quietly to the door, she was nearly startled out of her skin by the shifting of a figure in the bed than Anakin never used. Padmé had a moment of intense chagrin when she realized that she had forgotten that Obi-Wan Kenobi stayed here last night as well. The nightmare that had driven her here had been particularly intense and all she had been thinking of was getting to a place where she felt safe. The Jedi as a whole did not miss much, and she had a feeling this one missed even less.

Well, if he knew, then he knew. There was nothing to be done about it. 

Out in the hallway, instead of turning toward the common room, she went farther into the family wing. At the end of the curving corridor there was a water sculpture consisting of stepping stones in a swirling pool. Leaping back and forth, she danced a sequence on the broad, flat stones – ending with a two-footed stomp on the last one. 

A section of the serpentine-tiled wall slid down and she leaped through gracefully into a hidden passage. Naboo's history did not preclude it from having its share of nastiness. The monarchy had not always been elected and those who had fought for and attained power had plenty of reason to be paranoid. The Queen's Palace had been built by Eriamé the Wise – a Queen who had (with plenty of justification) assassinated her own brother and husband.

Erimaé's time had been turbulent and peppered with wars. At the time, what was now the mostly peaceful Mid-Rim was the much like the Outer Rim was now. When she took the Theed plateau, the 'Queen with A Million Enemies' had sat down with her engineer/architect lover and designed a beautiful and ornate puzzle-box of a capitol. The entire center of Nubian government had more secret passages, boltholes and hidden points of entrance and exit than anyone could believe.

Padmé had made it her business to learn them all. This one came out in the back of the Queen's Wardrobe, and made it seems as if she had merely been selecting her dresses for the day. 

A sigh escaped her and she shook her head. Except for high occasions of state, it took her less than two hours to get dressed. While the wigs and hairpieces, face-paint, and elaborate robes had their place, it was hard to appreciate while weighed down by them. Morning Court was much less formal than Afternoon or Evening Court. While her clothing and hairstyle would grow increasingly elaborate as the day progressed, at least there were no High Court functions over which she would be required to preside.

Exiting the passageway into the wardrobe rooms, she picked her clothing as she made her way to her chamber. Today she picked bold, assertive colors and rich patterns with historical significance. The coming day would not be easy. Padmé paused, a necklace of gold filigree and pearls in her hand. 

The Jedi would not be pleased with her.

Well, fair enough - she was not pleased with them. Setting the necklace back on it's stand, she continued to choose her accessories for the day. 

They treated a man the Naboo hailed as a hero as if he were a common criminal, removed the same man from the care of her personal physicians and treated her inquiries as one might the importuning of a toddler. Furthermore, they had prevented her from speaking with Jedi Kenobi or any other member of the Council. Then they had the gall to think that they could take charge of Anakin after they had spurned him twice! None of them had even asked after the child!

She slammed a pair of shoes onto a counter and winced at the bang. 

Schooling her temper back into order, she wondered if a visit to a Psy-droid might not be a good idea. 

Maybe when she had time.

With Anakin protected, she felt much more at ease. It was Master Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn who had her worried now. There was something wrong with the whole situation, and not just for the rudeness of the Council. Part of her apprehension had surfaced in her nightmare, showing her the Jedi bound by smoke and surrounded by shadows that moved like cloaked figures. 

One shadow detached itself from the rest and laid skeletal hands on Qui-Gon and where those hands rested, the man's flesh began to turn to stone. Bit by bit, the shadow's touch made the hale and lively Jedi into a chunk exquisitely sculpted marble. When there was no life or fire left, only blank stone eyes, the cloaked figure ignited a lightsaber with a gleaming ruby blade and began to cut – and the stone bled.

"I have to give them a way home." As Padmé said it, the idea bloomed in her head even as the relieved smile bloomed on her face. Perhaps she could not protect Knight Kenobi and his master, but she could help them even without leaving Naboo.

Morning Court, she thought on her way to her 'fresher, was going to be much more interesting than usual.

~


	3. Some Other Future's Past 3

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter Three

~

Obi-Wan lay awake for a long time after the young queen left. She and Anakin had bonded more closely than he thought. At first he thought it the companionship of two lonely youngsters – Padmé isolated by her rank, and Anakin through his being so very alien to this gentle world. 

Suddenly the thought of the previous day came back with stinging clarity. 

What if Anakin was not the only Force-strong youngling?

Closing his eyes, the young red-haired Knight cast for Amidala's presence in the Force. 

She gleamed to his 'other eye' with health, strength, and vitality. Determination, compassion, and protectiveness were etched into her being. But there was also soul-deep pain, auraed in anger as an infected wound might be surrounded by inflammation. Her strength in the Force was considerable, but untrained. She seemed divided, fractured somehow.

Obi-Wan then turned his inner eyes to Anakin. If Padmé Amidala gleamed with the Force, Anakin Skywalker was the twin suns of his homeworld. Anakin too, was fearful and in pain, both from the separation from all he had known and the overwhelming circumstances swirling around him like hungry whirlpools. Love and concern for Padmé, and his worry for her, were topmost in Anakin's emotions. Fear for his mother was another factor – worry that she might be hurt or sold away gnawed at his peace of mind.

In short, both young ones were so full of anxiety and tension that it was a wonder they didn't twang in a stiff breeze. Perhaps in teaching Anakin the basics, he might also teach the young Queen. It could only help them. 

But Qui-Gon

Grimly, Obi-Wan reached for the bond he shared with his master and sank into the deepest meditation that he had ever attempted.

His master was alive, but so deep in a healing trance as to be unreachable. The injuries to his internal organs had been significant, not only from the intrusion of the lightsaber into his thorax, but from the cauterization of tender tissues. It might be a month before his master was aware of the world, perhaps more. 

::: Master, I'm coming for you, but Anakin and Amidala :::

Obi-Wan could not finish, the distance was too great and connection too tenuous. How could he explain that he thought Anakin was in more danger than ever? Or that he felt that Amidala needed the guidance that only a Jedi could give? He couldn't even be sure that Qui-Gon would register or be able to respond to his sending. As he withdrew, feeling drained and ill, a feeling of reassurance washed against him like a gentle wave.

::: what you must, my son :::

Obi-Wan felt as if a great weight had been taken from his chest. Opening his eyes, he stared at the ceiling, feeling a great deal of tension as it dissipated from his being. Anakin and Amidala were not the only ones who needed the basics of meditation, it seemed. Perhaps teaching the young ones would let him be a little more mindful of the foundations his master had been so careful to build. 

Throwing back the covers, he sat up and glanced at the small figure sprawled in the window's cushions. Reluctant to return to his room in the Great Palace, he'd chance Anakin's hospitality for another use of the 'fresher facility. Moving quietly, as only a Jedi could, he slipped into the room and closed the door.

Indulging himself in another hot shower, he was gratified to note that the worst of the bruising was finally starting to fade. In another few days, he could resume his lightsaber practice and the more vigorous forms of exercise he favored. 

Stepping out of the shower unit, he eschewed the blow-dry for one of the thick, soft towels - wrapping himself in it as he waited for his clothing to come out of the cleaning cycle. Considering his reflection in the mirror-wall, he scrubbed his fingers over his chin, feeling the rasp of stubble. 

Maybe he should grow a beard? It might make him appear to be older and thus make it more likely that people would listen to him. Even at twenty-five standard years of age, he still looked boyish. Whoever heard of a boyish Jedi Knight?

The cleaning unit chimed and Obi-Wan reclaimed his clothing. As he dressed, he considered his reflection, once more rasping his fingers over his morning stubble. He hadn't had time to do a standard depilation, why not start the beard now?

He exited the 'fresher just as Anakin's feet hit the floor. With eyelids at half-mast and an epic case of bed-head the boy looked at him and mumbled, "Cumminabrkfust?"

It took him a second to decode the query. "I hadn't really thought about it."

Anakin smothered a jaw-creaking yawn with the back of his hand and mumbled again before shambling to the refresher. "Gimmeminnit."

Obi-Wan repressed a chuckle. Chosen One or not, one thing was sure – whatever the lad was or was not, he was no ball of fire in the morning. 

Anakin returned shortly and markedly more with the world. Dressed in what must be his best clothing from home and shaggy hair tamed, he was still yawning but was now semi-coherent. Tucking the tail end of his leg wrap into the top of his boots, he stifled another yawn and waved at Obi-Wan to follow him. 

Obi-Wan took the time to appreciate the artistry of the Nubians as they walked through the palace. The natural beauty of the materials had not been overlooked, and the aesthetic of the design was both majestic and organic. How could even the grandest building compete with a waterfall? The Nubian answer had been to make the waterfall in intrinsic part of the design.

"It's wizard, isn't it?" 

Anakin had regained the power of speech. 

Obi-Wan smiled down at him. "It is, indeed. I've been to many places, and this is one of the loveliest, even with the scars of war still visible."

They walked in silence for a time, Obi-Wan sensed Anakin checking his mental accounting. When the boy spoke, the Jedi was startled by the subject.

"Padmé's afraid." The burst of speech stopped them both. "She's afraid that she can't do it – can't make it right again. Nobody ever thought anything like this would happen when they elected her and she's scared that more bad things will happen because people will think Naboo is weak when they have such a young leader."

"I don't think that anyone will see weakness after her actions; they will see strength and determination." Obi-Wan crossed his arms and considered Anakin's words carefully. "Certainly Nute Gunray has had his illusions of weakness dispelled. She outran, outwitted and tricked him, but that's not to say that he won't be vengeful."

Or that whomever backed the normally cowardly Nemoidians would not try again from a different front.

"When you're that rich, you can pay someone to be vengeful for you." Anakin snorted, echoing Obi-Wan's thoughts a little more roughly. "The Hutts never fight their own battles, not openly, but most of the swooptroops and bounty hunters on Tattooine are on the payroll of either Gardulla or Jabba." 

"Do you think that this 'they' will make another attempt so soon?" Obi-Wan wanted to hear the answer unclouded by second-guessing. He thought that his own experience with the Sith might be clouding his judgement.

"Maybe not as big or showy, but, yeah, I think that they will." Anakin looked haunted. "I think that those Sith might be even sorer losers than Dugs or Hutts."

"Then we'll just have to be on our guard, young Anakin." As Obi-Wan patted the child's shoulder, he wondered that 'we.' Was it right that he was tying these vulnerable youngsters to his own uncertain future? "I must return to Coruscant, but not for a little while yet."

Anakin's sunrise smile blasted his doubts to fleeing shadows. "I knew you'd help her. I knew the Council didn't have you whipped. Thank you, Obi-Wan! Only"

"What is it, Anakin?" 

The boy looked sheepishly up at Obi-Wan. "Could you not let her know that I told you that stuff? You know, let her think that you Jedi-ed it out? She'd peel me like a mulna fruit if she thought I blabbed."

Obi-Wan could well believe it. 

"If she asks me straight out, I will have to tell her. I will just take care to conduct myself so that she does not find reason to ask." He smiled, but said in earnest. "If you feel that Padmé needs help beyond your ability, I would be greatly honored if you came to me, Anakin. I'll be discreet about it."

Anakin's relief was enough that he readily agreed.

As they came to the silver-chased latticed doors of the Morning Room, Obi-Wan caught Anakin's darting look of curiosity at his face.

"Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Anakin?"

"Did you forget to shave?"

~

The Morning Room was one of Padmé's favorites. Tall windows faced east to catch the rising sun and walls of frescoes in gentle yellow made it a cheery room no matter what the weather. Breakfast, usually a meal she grabbed and ate as quickly as possible on her way from one place to another, had become something of a pleasant ritual for her. Not since living at home had her days started so easily. 

She had started this just a couple of weeks ago as something to give Anakin some kind of structure while his future was in limbo. The boy spent most of his days fixing droids and other mechanicals that had suffered damage in the siege, while she had affairs of state to manage and a world that needed so much from her. Bit by bit others had joined in – Padmé's handmaidens, her parents, and sister when they could be here. It was a way of easing into the day, rather than just jumping in with both feet. 

Going to the sideboard, the young monarch poured a mug of sweetbark tea and took some rolls filled with a spiced bean paste. She had already brushed and braided her hair, so she had little more to do before Morning Court than to paint her face and put on her dress. 

Settling into her chair at the long table, Padmé turned on the holovision, specifying multiple small images from a cross-section of the news channels. The first part of the morning ritual was usually devoted to getting one's caffeine intake and nourishment, but turned to conversation as they eased into the day. 

She was sipping her tea and watching a replay of the Senate Appropriations Committee meeting when the doors at the end of the hall opened and Anakin poked his head in. Spying her, he smiled and brought the rest of himself in, followed by Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Padmé was mildly surprised, Anakin had not indicated more than marginal trust in the younger of the Jedi. It seemed that the two had been talking a bit more and to a greater effect than she knew. As for whether or not the Jedi had noticed a third party sleeping in the same room - that remained to be seen.

"Good morning, Ani. Good morning, Jedi Kenobi."

Obi-Wan responded with a bow and a murmured, "Your Highness."

Ani simply gave his customary enthusiastic, friendly hug and a "G'morning, Pad." 

The Jedi's eyebrow flickered upward at what he probably saw as improper familiarity, but he said nothing as he joined Anakin at the sideboard. The red-haired Jedi limited himself to herbed rolls with a soft cheese and sweetbark tea. Anakin – typically less restrained – piled his plate with anything that caught his eye. 

Padmé marveled to think that he'd be hungry again three hours after he finished it. Eritaé assured her that growing boys ate like that, and with all those brothers, she should know. 

Man and boy returned to the table just as others began to appear. 

Slowly the morning started. Murmurs of greeting, inquiries of how the night passed and light conversation filled in over the rhythm of eating utensils on dishes. Occasionally a diner would enlarge an image from one of the newscasts and discussion would ensue. At first, the presence of Obi-Wan put disrupted the usual flow, but he seemed to invite inquiry and had astute and interesting comments on events of the day. By the end of the meal, with everyone lingering over their caffeinated beverages of choice, he was starting to fit in. 

Anakin's observations were of the pragmatic type, and for a boy of nine, he was an astute observer. An intricate discussion of trade in the Outer Rim had her thinking of making overtures to other worlds as isolated as Naboo. As Anakin pointed out, there many worlds closer to Naboo in the Outer Rim than in the Inner Rim. The Expansion and Colonial Regions were tied tight to the Core worlds and thus to the very interests that had besieged Naboo. She'd study the matter tonight.

Pulling a small datapad from a pocket in her tunic, Padmé made some swift notes. Glancing at Obi-Wan, she also keyed in a request for maintenance to look at the depilatory unit in Anakin's 'fresher. It must be malfunctioning.

~ 

Leaning back in his chair, Obi-Wan covertly studied the group around the table. This morning had really been very educational. 

He was getting a feel for these young women and finding out who they really were as well as who Anakin was. On the pillar-to-post trips from Naboo to Tattooine, Tattooine to Coruscant, and Coruscant back to Naboo – he had not really gotten to know any of them. The Queen and her Handmaidens had been engaged in keeping secrets, at one point he and Qui-Gon had not been on speaking terms, and Anakin trusted Obi-Wan as far as he could throw a Hutt. The battle and its aftermath, the injuries to himself and his master and then the demands of the Council had tied him up until just yesterday.

Now he found himself fascinated by the diversity in this group of similar looking women. 

At nineteen, Sabé Mirill was the oldest, and had been a senior cadet in the Academy of the Guard. She was generally considered 'chief-of-staff' of the handmaidens.

Yané Auribi was thirteen - the youngest of the group - and aspired to be Counsel-of-Law. 

From a farming family in the Theed foothills, Eritaé Guaran was sixteen - the middle child of seven and the only girl. 

Dormé Saspa and Cordé Cana were cousins, both fourteen, and knew the queen from their time together in refugee relief organizations and Apprentice Legislators. 

Rabé Paua was fifteen, quiet and shy, but had been a martial arts champion in her age group. Panaka often tapped her as an assistant instructor.

The absent Saché Kial was eighteen, and recuperating from blaster burn injuries at her parent's home in a city called Walhi. An aspiring agricultural geneticist – she had a dissertation due at the end of the summer and had asked leave to concentrate on that.

Obi-Wan was surprised to learn that all the young women – including the queen - were still students. Most received intensive tutoring between official duties and scheduled 'turns' as Queen in order to attend classes. 

Anakin was a study in contrasts. Apparently, there was no formal schooling on Tattooine - if you wanted to learn something, you just paid or traded services with someone to teach you. There was no such thing as an illiterate slave, Anakin's mother was a source-code programmer of no small ability and highly valuable. She had taught her son to read, write, and some intermediate-level mathematics – about what one could expect from a child of his age. What was remarkable was that Anakin was also fluent in Huttese, Rodian, Toyardian, and some rather obscure Corellian dialects. 

"I'll be taking you to the University District, Anakin." Rabé said softly. "You'll find out what classes you need, and can pick from a lot of different ones that interest you."

The boy looked at Padmé with a 'what's this?' expression on his face.

"Trust me, Ani," Padmé assured. "You'll like it. Captain Olié and Colonel Carris are clamoring to get you into the Academy as it is."

"The Academy? I can learn to fly the big ships? Wizard! I mean that's just rugged!" The brilliant grin lit up Anakin's face again as he turned to Rabé. "Can we go now?"

The table broke out in laughter. 

"I told you!" Eritaé managed through her laughter. "I told you he'd want to take pilot training!"

"Like there was a doubt?" Anakin scoffed. "If you were taking sucker bets on that, I want a cut!"

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan scolded. "No gambling! And no percentages on it, either!"

Sabé halted Anakin's reply with an upraised hand. "There's not enough time before Court to go now, Anakin. The proceedings are too important for you to miss. I had a page's uniform put together and sent to your quarters. I'll be down to coach you in a little while."

Anakin nodded soberly, and pushed his food nervously around his plate. Padmé gently squeezed his arm, eyes watching her own plate until she lifted them to pin Obi-Wan with her disconcertingly direct stare. 

"What is the likely reaction of the Council to our actions?"

The table fell quiet and Anakin looked even harder at his plate as if trying to find answers.

Obi-Wan added to the silence for a few moments before speaking. "My Lady, I would like to say that they will take our actions," he stressed the fact that he was supporting them. "But after the last week, I scarcely know what to think. They were adamant that Anakin be sent back to Tattooine, which after all the publicity he has been subject to, would likely result in his death."

Anakin's astonished gaze snapped up to the Jedi's face. He had plainly never considered the possibility.

"But he's a just a boy! A child!" Eritaé's eyes flashed and she stood so suddenly that the chair tipped over. "Who would undertake a child's murder?"

Anakin's eyes suddenly looked as if they belonged to someone much older. "Any bounty hunter, Eritaé. They're in it for the money, not the ethics. It's just another job to them."

The entire table sat in shocked silence. Padmé found her tongue first, but the question was not what he expected. "Why did the Council refuse to train Anakin?"

He found himself pinned to the chair by seven pairs furious of spice-brown eyes and had to remind himself that he was technically an ally. "The Council tested him, and while they agree his powers are astonishing, they feel that he is too old, too aware, and too emotional to train safely."

"My master," he continued. "Thought them to be wrong and – initially – I agreed with them. I was raised in the Temple from the time I was less than a month old, and I know how we train younglings. Nevertheless, I realize that Anakin must be trained or he is in even more danger than if he was sent back to Tattooine. The Sith are still out there and if we killed the master, the apprentice will be looking for an apprentice of his own. If we killed the apprentice, the Sith will need another to replace him. Either way, Anakin untrained and defenseless would be too good an opportunity to pass up. I would think that the Sith would stop at nothing to get him."

"You mean more like that " Anakin turned pale, shuddering. 

Obi-Wan laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "That is not something that I am going to permit. I will teach you."

Padmé's voice was steady, but she was almost as pale as Anakin. "And what danger are you putting yourself in? You're the one who killed him. The Council may not be pleased at your support for my actions, either. You seem to be putting yourself between a rock and a hard place, Jedi Kenobi."

Obi-Wan did his best to emulate his master at one with the Living Force. "That is exactly where a Jedi ought to be. If you asked Master Jinn, he would tell you that being up in that tower has given them an exaggerated sense of their own importance as well as deprived them of oxygen due to the altitude."

That brought smiles around the table and he looked at each of them encouragingly. "Now, I know you all have preparations to make"

"Actually, Jedi Kenobi, I require your presence at Morning Court." Padmé, now calm, smiled at the Jedi and Obi-Wan was suddenly worried. "You and Anakin will be on the dais with me. Sabé., since you will be coaching Ani, would you see to it that both can find their way to the Hall of the Queens in the Great Palace?"

Sabé assured her monarch that both would be there - with a smile that said they would if she had to twist tender parts to do it.

As everyone was making their exits, the queen's datapad beeped. 

Reading the message she called out, "Oh, and Knight Kenobi? Maintenance says that the depilatory unit should work just fine. You wouldn't want anyone to think that you had forgotten to shave."

Obi-Wan had the feeling that it was about to be a very long day.

~


	4. Some Other Future's Past 4

Author's Note: Thanks, everyone, for the kind reviews! Feedback really makes my day and I am very happy to know that you are enjoying the story. :)

~

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter Four

~

The Hall of the Queens in the Great Palace was considered informal and simple by the standards of Naboo. By the standards of the off-worlders in the assemblage, it was nothing short of breathtaking. 

Composed entirely of carved alabaster, the hall glowed in a soft radiance enhanced by the use of wafer-thin panes of alabaster for the windows. The floor was composed of the same delicate stone protected by a tough resin and the statues of Naboo's queens formed the pillars that supported the vaulted ceiling. At the head of the hall, the queen's dais stood tall enough to let even the most petite of rulers look out over the hall. The throne was carved of the same alabaster as the hall and meant to emphasis rather than overwhelm the figure resting upon it. 

Captain Panaka in midnight blue and burgundy stood at the foot of the dais, facing the crowd with his shoulders back and chin out. To one side stood a tall, auburn-haired figure in the robes of a Jedi and a small, blond boy in an intricately wrapped blue tunic, sash and trousers. The Queen's handmaidens were arrayed about her, dressed in pale, shimmering blue.

Even the colorful garb of the courtiers paled beside that of Amidala on this morning. The young queen wore intricate multi-layered robes in shades of blue ranging from the pale aquamarine to deepest midnight. The outermost robe was embroidered with representations of colorfully plumed _Uroi_ birds from the equatorial regions. The symbol of Naboo's queens, the birds were beautiful in both aspect and voice, but they were also fierce defenders of their nesting grounds. Pearls braided through her dark hair supported a heavy gold medallion in the shape of an inverted fan, decorated with blue stones and strands of seed pearls.

The Scar of Remembrance was marked in vivid red on her lower lip, matching the Marks of Conscience on her cheeks, directly below her eyes. Once disdained as archaic tradition, Amidala had revived them in answer to her predecessor's excesses. Now, as the young ruler looked out over her Court, even the most jaded felt the effect. They were looking into the eyes of history, some of it noble, some quite notably not, but a long and grand sweep of it. 

"We of Naboo came here from many places." The hall was constructed to naturally magnify the voice of the speaker on the dais without resort to artificial amplification. "We were refugees from war seeking peace. We were outlaws seeking a hiding place. We were outcasts seeking acceptance. We were slaves seeking to be free. Now that we are sovereign, we open out world to those who are as we were - afraid, alone, scorned."

Many around the Hall nodded, eyes gleaming with pride. Naboo was prosperous, and yielded up plenty to share. It was a mark of honor to take in the stranger, to feed the hungry. 

"Even marked so by war, we are generous. We can be, for we are strong, and we know that our enemies would delight to see us so diminished that we turned away the bereft, the injured and those who come to us with nothing more than spirit and will. Those who have harmed us would have us complete their work by hardening our hearts and turning away."

"We won't do it!" Someone called from the back of the hall, and many heads bobbed in emphatic agreement. 

Amidala smiled, radiant with pride. "It is in this spirit that I come before you today. On this day, I revive another tradition, one that saddens me even as it gives me hope. In times past, young ones with no parents, and no relative available to take guardianship became pages. Wards of the Royal Court, they became part of a greater family – the heart-children of all Naboo. "

The hall was somber. The crèches were full to bursting with bereft younglings, though many could eventually be reunited with some family member somewhere, there were many who had none. 

"One child gave up everything, risked everything, in order to travel into the stars. In doing so, he lost much. His guardian is injured and unable to care for him, his mother far away on a dangerous world." She looked around the room, her gaze sobering even the most ebullient courtier. "He flew into danger, guided by the Force, and saved us all, Naboo and Gungan." 

Only a few people heard the child whisper, "Qui-Gon told me to stay in that cockpit"

Amidala spoke solemnly, "Anakin Skywalker, come forward."

The child seemed to count his steps, lips moving as he reminded himself of what he was supposed to do. Bowing in form, he dropped to one knee in front of Amidala, head bowed. 

"You have served us at danger to your life, you and those you love have sacrificed so that Naboo might live free." Amidala's voice was rich with emotion. "I name you Ward of the Royal Court, page in service of the Court. Be welcome and at peace in the house of Naboo, child of Naboo."

"All honor to Naboo." Anakin responded, standing as Sabé came forward. 

Taking the silver and sky-blue tabard from her handmaiden, Queen Amidala unfolded it and pulled it over the boy's head. Settling it on his shoulders, the boy bowed deeply, then walked stiffly to his place behind and to the left of the throne. 

"He is the first of many younglings who will serve in the palaces, learning and growing as a family. As their families sacrificed for our freedom, so we take up their care with honor." 

There were some rustlings in the crowd as ministers and governors prepared to come forward and present their business, but the young Queen was not done yet.

Her voice cut clearly through the murmuring, "Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, come forward."

The young man looked startled, but did as he was bid, dropping to one knee with his brown robe pooled behind him. 

"In times past, the Queen sometimes needed counsel from someone whom she could trust to be impartial. You and Master Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn saved the Naboo from a threat even greater than the Trade Federation, and in doing so Master Jinn nearly lost his life." 

Another handmaiden came forward carrying a box of golden _waru_ wood and lifted the lid. Amidala reached in and removed a medal composed of a palm-sized blue opal on a chain of platinum. 

Carefully slipping it over his head, she intoned. "I name you Councilor to the Court of Naboo, entitled to the all privileges thereof, and transport according to your needs." 

The court was so quiet that it seemed time had stopped. 

The Queen reached into the box again, bringing out a packet wrapped in blue silk and pearls, and pressed it into Obi-Wan's hands. 

"Though Master Jedi Qui-Gon Jin cannot be with us today," she continued. "We ask of you that you convey this and our wishes to him. Please let him know of the honors we bestow upon both of you, who have done so much for this world. Wherever you go, please know that Naboo will welcome you, always."

The Jedi bowed his head, casting a surreptitious glance to one side of the dais where the visiting Jedi Council stood. Then, regaining his feet, moved resumed his place beside the throne. The Queen looked out at her Court and smiled before resuming her seat and asking for the first petition to be presented. 

~ 

"Watto?" The voice came from the brightness of a Tattooine winter morning. "Watto?

Watto grunted as he looked up from the third or maybe fourth-hand holonet unit. "Yeah, Shmi? Wadda you want? You heard from the _peedunkel_?"

The downward scale of Shmi's response countered the rising notes of hope in his last sentence. "No, Watto. I've heard nothing from Ani."

"It's only been a couple weeks." The Toyardian looked up at the woman as she came to stand over him. "Hey! Lookit this! Gotta real holonet unit. You can call him!"

"Really?" Shmi's careworn face lit up. This climate was not kind to humans – wet, thin-skinned creatures that they were, it dried them up and made them old before their time.

"Once I fix it"

The light dimmed, though she tried to hide it. "I had a call from Bello, over at Mos Eisley. It seems his last batch of 'droids got a bad wipe and nearly dismantled the mech-market before he shut them down."

"Usual rate?" Watto tried to sound surly.

"I told him thirty percent up, and he has to cover my transport." The trip was hazardous if no accommodating shuttle captain could be found to make the atmospheric hop between Mos Espa and the larger spaceport. Travel on the Dune Sea was time-consuming and hazardous at any time of year, but during the winter, the sandstorms were more frequent.

"Good girl." Maybe he'd just close early and go do something. "Look for some deals while you're there. Mebby pick up some of those new manuals you're always honkin' at me about."

Shmi regarded him curiously and he waved her off. "You wanna stand here an' stare at me all day? Go getcher stuff, I'll drive you to the port. Business is slow anyways and that Kit don' work like Ani did. Dis place is fallin' apart widdout da boy."

The woman paused in the doorway and looked back at her owner. "We'll see him again, Watto. I know it. I feel it."

In a moment, a chill passed through the junk dealer. Shmi sometimes knew things. She was no dummy, not by a long shot, but this way of knowing unnerved him when it made its appearance.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll take you to the track and let you place the bets. Ha!" Shmi was no Jedi, what was he thinking? "Now get movin'! I ain't got all day to be waitin' while you jabber."

Shmi went to get her gear and Watto went out back to start the speeder. It was getting old; maybe he could have Shmi look for a newer one in Mos Eisley. As he stuffed his pudgy self behind the controls, he saw a figure on the roof of Foont's cantina. Silhouetted against the bright sky, it seemed that the person who was watching him and wasn't shy about being seen, either.

The figure moved, flipping itself off the roof and dropping into the alley just as Watto decided that he'd intercept Shmi on her way to the Slave Quarters and give her a ride. After all, time was money. 

~

When faced with strong emotions that might cloud judgement, Jedi consciously released that emotion into the Force, where it would dissipate like a cup of dye in a river. 

So Qui-Gon Jinn had explained to Padmé and so she was doing her best to emulate. 

Not that it was easy with her private audience chamber stuffed with the twelve Jedi Council members, one shiny-new Jedi night, one little boy, seven angry young women, the Chancellor of the Republic, and a nervous Captain of the Guard. 

But she was trying.

First, the objections had been over Obi-Wan's appointment as Councilor. Amidala pointed out that throughout the history of Naboo, there had been many Jedi advisers to the Court. In no record in the Crown Archives did she find any indication of the Jedi Council objecting to, or otherwise interfering with those appointments.

"Jedi are free from ambition and bias, Master Windu. They see and speak the truth, not what they would like to see as the truth." She had to concentrate to keep her hands from clenching to fists. "In this matter I have nothing but the most profound trust and respect for Jedi Kenobi and Jedi Jinn."

Obi-Wan, flanked by a pair of handmaidens, started to open his mouth. 

Amidala made a small, inconspicuous gesture with her fingers and Rabé's arm, concealed in the long bell-shaped sleeve of her dress, moved. 

Obi-Wan's eyes went as wide as teacups - but he remained silent and very, very still. 

"Be that as it may." The Cerean master Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke with some irritation. "You presume too much, young queen, in placing your judgement ahead of the Council. The boy was to have been returned to his homeworld at our order. Orders that you have seen fit to countermand."

_The river and the dye Amaidala now, Padmé later the river and the dye Amidala now, Padmé later._

"When Master Jinn was incapacitated, by the laws of Naboo, he became a Protected Innocent, Master Jedi. Since I was informed by my physicians – prior to Master Jinn's removal from their care," Amidala's voice sharpened with displeasure. "That even with a Jedi Healer to care for him, it would be many weeks, if not months before Master Jinn would be able to care for himself, much less Anakin."

"The boy is the responsibility of the Jedi." Mace Windu's voice was a prime example of flat. 

A gargle of pure outrage came from behind the queen and young Yané stormed past the throne, right up to the imposing Jedi master. 

"A responsibility that the Jedi seem to have abdicated with a will, Master Windu!" she barked up at him. "Or does the Jedi Council think that responsibility can be defined as returning Anakin Skywalker to a world controlled by a crime syndicate, where his mother remains enslaved, and bounty hunters are as common as ducks?" 

Erinaé Merron, dressed in cool hauteur along with her robes of office, moved to stand beside the outraged handmaiden. 

"Given the publicity surrounding Anakin's destruction of the Trade Federation control ship, it is the belief of myself and the concerned authorities that Anakin's life would be in danger if he should be returned to a world where the only law is who gets paid." The reed-thin woman spoke as if to someone slow of faculty. "In this, we feel that the Jedi Council does not have the best interests of the child in mind."

Padmé swallowed a smirk of satisfaction. It appeared that the Jedi master was having a bit of trouble with the river and the dye concept, as well.

"The boy" Master Yoda began.

"Anakin." Padmé interrupted.

"Clouded his future is"

"Sweetly Singing Saints, Master Jedi! He's _nine years old_!" River be blasted, Padmé now. "Unlike the guided-from-birth Jedi, we simple beings have to make our way in the Universe one day at a time. Nothing is done until it is done, is that not so? Then tell me how in the names of all that is holy, you can sit there and act as if Anakin is a Sith!"

"It is possible" 

"It's possible that I will tear off this dress, paint myself blue and ride a _shaak_ into the sunset, but it's not very likely." A little too much Padmé got through and she took a few moments to breathe deeply.

"My Queen, good Masters, please!" Chancellor Palpatine came forward, patting the air with his hands, his voice soothing. "The procedures laid out in the laws of Naboo are clear and have been followed – albeit at a somewhat expedited pace. Anakin Skywalker is a Ward of the Court of the sovereign system of Naboo. That status can only be revoked in one of four ways – by Master Qui-Gon Jinn, by Shmi Skywalker, by the Protectorate of Innocents, or by the High Court of the Republic. If you contest this matter, Masters, it must be in front of the High Court. Master Jinn – I am given to understand – is not lucid enough that his decision would be valid."

The silence was as solid as the serpentine marble of the room. Such a motion before the Republic's highest court would essentially be a question of Naboo's sovereignity. The very rumor of such action would most likely turn Naboo wholesale against the Jedi and make other sovereign systems wonder if they were next. Padmé felt the muscles along her spine tense hard enough to kindle a headache at the base of her skull.

A soft chime broke the silence and Rabé fished a round silver pendant out of her neckline. The small ball chimed persistently until she squeezed her hand around it. 

"By your leave, my Queen?"

Padmé inclined her head in permission and her handmaiden dropped into a curtsey. Obi-Wan, who had been very still, relaxed. 

"Anakin, we have that appointment in the University District. If you'll change and meet me by the Courtyard of the Fishes, we can go."

Anakin stepped forward and bowed, looking at Padmé. The skin around his eyes was tight and his shoulders stiff. Padmé was concerned that all the animosity in the room was too much for him. How hard must it be to be in a room full of people who persisted in talking about you as if you weren't really there?

"By your leave, my Queen?"

"Yes, Anakin, keep your appointment and I'll see you this evening." She tried to the affection she felt for him into her 'court voice' and the small smile. 

Bowing once more, Anakin smiled. "Thank you, Highness." 

Watching the two leave the room, Padmé smiled. He would be happy here. 

As the door shut behind the pair, she turned to her newest advisor. "Councilor Jedi Kenobi, I have need of your good advice"

~


	5. Some Other Future's Past 5

Some Other Future's Past 

Chapter Five

~

Long day, Obi-Wan thought wearily, did not begin to describe it. 

Looking around the Quad between the Greater House of State and the Lesser House of State, he scanned the darkness for anyone who might be tailing him. 

First, he had been prodded into temporarily scrapping his nascent beard. Then Amidala had sandbagged him when she conferred that appointment upon him. When the Council contested it, he had opened his mouth to advise her - as she had asked - and…

The Jedi huffed indignantly.

There had been no call to exert that type of pressure. It nettled him that Rabé had been able to slip under his guard – among other things - in the first place. What made it worse was that any effort to extricate himself might have… hurt. Whenever he moved, she would twist just a little and remind him that his future progeny were very much at stake.

Sensing only small nocturnal animals, Obi-Wan sprinted across the Quad into a tunnel of feather-leaf trees.

After Anakin had left with Rabé, Obi-Wan's feeling of relief was short-lived. He had found that perhaps his place as a Jedi was not between the rock and the hard place after all. The private audience has lasted until the chimes sounded for Afternoon Court and in that time he had needed all the training of a Jedi just to keep his equanimity. For every bit of advice the young queen had asked him to provide, the Council seemed to oppose it simply on the virtue of it having come out of his mouth.

The Chancellor had not been much help at all. For all that his comments were calm and well considered, they seemed to have the effect of fanning the flames of resentment developing between the Naboo and the Jedi Council. The Council's treatment of Qui-Gon and Anakin had been the spark and it had taken every shred of diplomacy that Obi-Wan possessed to keep a war from breaking out in the chamber.

Stealthily, he crept down the pink graveled pathway. Not even a pebble moved under his booted feet the whole length of the tunnel. 

Afternoon Court had been lengthy, with some complicated petitions from interests allied with the Trade Federation. The Banking Clans wanted the Crown to rescind sanctions that had been imposed when the depth of financing they had extended to the trade Federation had been revealed. They blamed the actions of a small group within the organization that had operated without the knowledge of the regulatory body. Amidala referred the petition to the Minster of Finance without comment.

Reaching the end of the tunnel, he tucked and rolled into a stand of copper tubes that played music as the warm night wind passed over their angled mouths.

"So far, so good,'' he muttered. The closer he was to the Queen's Palace, the closer he was to refuge. As it was, his goal was only two circles over and he had three routes to choose from.

The Mining Consortium contested its eviction from the Naboo system, saying it had only moved into abandoned properties in the moons and asteroid belts and claiming ownership through adverse possession. When Obi-Wan pointed out that those installations were abandoned because all the inhabitants had been forcibly removed to Trade Federation concentration camps, the petition was withdrawn with breathtaking haste. 

The Commerce Guild asked to be allowed to take up Trade Federation franchises. Amidala said only that she would take the matter under advisement.

Others who were looking to reinstate themselves in the Crown's good graces withdrew their petitions without comment. Amidala was no puppet Queen, even at the Mining Consortium's outrageous petition she had kept her cool mask firmly in place. Even if she had been all but spitting with rage afterwards, it was in private.

Choosing the terraced garden paths along the Lesser Falls, he blew through the sculpture garden and down the river-rock stairs to the first terrace. It was not the quickest path, but with the periodic evening showers, it was the least likely to have anyone on it.

On the brighter side, the Protector of Innocents had winnowed the first of five hundred likely pages out of the rolls of kinless youngsters. Once the rooms could be made available and schedules agreed upon, the eight-to-thirteen year-olds would be moved into the palaces. In groups of ten and under the supervision of a nurturing authority figure, the children would act as messengers and heralds for the Court, as well as assorted Councils and Ministries.

After Court, he put his foot down and insisted that the Queen and her Handmaidens eat something. It wound up being a working lunch in Amidala's office with a Minister of this or Governor of that barging in at every other bite. When Amidala went to ready herself for her evening speech on the local holonet, Obi-Wan went looking for a place where he could meditate in solitude. 

Instead he found himself dealing with members of the assorted interests looking for Obi-Wan to influence the oh-so-young and perhaps a tad naive ruler. Perhaps he could persuade the idealistic youngling of the vital importance of the influential guilds to her people's recovery. Certainly, there had been some moves made by the guilds that might be construed as – well – opportunistic. However, at the time, Trade federation control had been an accomplished fact and high officials had legitimately made the offers.

Obi-Wan merely made noncommittal noises. He would be certain to bring this to Amidala's attention, but perhaps not in the exact way that the representatives would prefer. From what the representatives let slip, it seemed that they must have known about the Trade Federation's intentions weeks – possibly months - before the siege and invasion actually took place. 

Someone – and Obi-Wan sincerely doubted that it was Rune Haako, Nute Gunray or Lott Dodd – was coordinating this. Naboo was small and isolated. The people were mostly pacifistic, with only a small system defense force. The main products exported were gemstones and decorative stone, with metals and exotic gasses from the outlying planets, moons, and asteroid belt. Imports were apt to be technology, luxury goods, and building materials like durasteel and transparisteel. 

The shadowy, hypothetical someone wanted a nice fat duck to carve up. Peaceful, prosperous, generous Naboo – far removed from the powerful worlds of the Core and Inner Rim – had been ripe for the plucking.

Who would coordinate something like this? And to what purpose? All that would be served was to turn people against the guilds, certainly the Nemoidians were experiencing major backlash from many worlds. Some larger systems were refusing to admit Federation ships at all even as the Nemoidian government tried at the same time to distance itself from Gunray's actions and placate the other guilds. 

After Evening Court – with Anakin and Rabé still not in evidence – he again went looking for peace and quiet. In the Garden of the Windbells he found Masters Plo Koon, Mace Windu, Eeth Koth and Ki-Adi-Mundi. He went in tired and came out two hours later even more so with a headache for a bonus. 

Master Yoda and Master Yaddle had cornered him in the library. Backwards was he thinking when his leaving they did permit.

Finally, he tossed his dignity to the winds and went sneaking like a padawan returning to his room with illicit goods. He was accosted singly by Yarael Poof, Oppo Rancisis, Evan Piell and Saesee Tiin, causing him to wonder if padawans actually got away with half of what they thought they got away with. 

In all cases, the subjects were the same. The inappropriateness of his appointment of Councilor, followed immediately by a complaint about Amidala's conduct on Anakin's behalf. There would then be long lecture about Qui-Gon Jinn and his habit of letting the Living Force get in the way of his perception of the Unifying Force, and exhortations for Obi-Wan to pay heed to the Council instead of tilting at it.

By the time he escaped the grim lecture of Saesee Tiin, he heartily wished the Council back to Coruscant and himself anywhere but here. 

The final indignity was having Adi Gallia, Depa Billaba and Shaak Ti follow him into a public 'fresher and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

"Are you well, Knight Kenobi?" called Master Billaba. 

In a holoseries, the hero would toss off witty comments to confuse his captors while using a pocket laser cutter to slice his way out of the stall. He would then fall with perfect timing – and hair - into a waiting speeder where he would throw his arms around the pneumatically enhanced fem driving it. After a closeup of the lip-lock, he would toss off another witty comment and the pair would ride off into the Coruscant sunset.

Since he was Obi-Wan Kenobi, he had to settle for wiggling out of a small window, falling into the bushes and then running as if half of hell were chasing him. He had hidden in a tree until nightfall.

It depressed him to think that his career as a Jedi was beginning so inauspiciously.

Nearing the Palace, he stopped and reconnoitered. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but he did have good reason. Between the petitioners and the Council members ambushing him, he was as jumpy as a _kaadu_!

A bush rustled and there was a sound of stone on stone. The back of a colorful frieze in a grotto lowered like a drawbridge and Amidala… no… Padmé slipped down to help her smaller companion out.

"This one comes out in the river terraces, Ani, and all you have to do get back in is…" At the sight of him, both younglings froze in response to the primitive prompting of their limbic systems. 

Anakin muttered something under his breath of which the least obscene component was, "We're screwed."

Obi-Wan felt his face settling into an expression he had had only seen and never really tried on for himself. Stern simply did not feel right on his face.

"What, my young friends, do you think you're doing?" Crossing his arms on his chest, he awaited their answer.

~

Gutter argot to be garnered from multiple languages and sources in a sleazy, third-rate spaceport was plentiful and Anakin a quick study. 

Cursing, Shmi Skywalker had told her son, should be reserved for the situation where it will have some effect. To curse all the time for no reason at all simply showed lack of intelligence and wit. Anakin took the advice very much to heart – after a couple of incidents with sun-pepper sauce and time in his room to think about it.

However, on top of the day that he just had, and the day that Padmé looked like she had, having Obi-Wan pop out of nowhere like a Jedi jack-in-the-box was just enough to override his internal editing process. 

Come to think of it, Obi-Wan did not like he was having a Faire Day, either. His hair was standing up in spikes, his eyes wide and for a Jedi he looked … twitchy.

"We're doing the same thing that you are, sneaking." Anakin knew that he was not diplomatic at the best of times and right now he was too tired and keyed up to even make a token attempt. "If you've had people chasing you down like a womp rat the way Pad and I have, that's exactly what you're doing."

Obi-Wan ran his fingers through his hair, spiking it even more. "You haven't seen any Council members, have you?"

"Masters Adi Gallia, Shaak Ti, Depa Billaba." Padmé sounded as weary as she looked as she slowly sat on the grass. "I've had lectures from all three about acting precipitously and in anger. I was told that my actions concerning you and Master Jinn were admirable, but that there were other Jedi whom might more adequately fill the roles of advisors."

Anakin fell backwards onto the soft, springy turf. It was nearly as soft as a bed and smelled wonderful, the way everything here did.

"I feel like I've been turned inside out. I've never had tests like that in my life. They did everything but open my head and stir my brains," the child mumbled. "Then I get back to Padmé's palace and Jedi are all over the place like _krik_ bugs. They questioned the girls, then the one with the big pointy head, the red lady, and the one with the breather cornered me and I was… rude."

The pointy-headed master had been very taken aback when Anakin asked where they bought him, to be treating him like a slave. That had been followed with some of the choicest invective he possessed, coupled with libelous speculations about their personal habits, and flourished with scurrilous suggestions concerning their destinations and activities in the afterlife.

Obi-Wan sighed. "How rude?"

"Really rude. Mom would have been ballistic." She'd make him drink a cup of sun-pepper sauce if she had heard what he'd said. When he managed to contact her, he would still tell her, though. Anakin then added with a shrug, "The red lady told me to tell you that 'no matter where you go, there you are.' Whatever that means."

"She's telling me that I can't run. Now, the question was, what are you two doing?" he meant to sound stern, but it came out as a sigh.

"Ahhmmmm… Padmé was just showing me around." Anakin's lower lip settled into a stubborn curve. He mostly trusted the younger Jedi – not as much as Master Jinn - but this was Padme's secret. "Tomorrow is Rest Day, so since we couldn't sleep anyways…"

"I was showing Anakin some of the secret passages, Jedi Kenobi. Theed is riddled with them and I thought he should know what goes where." Her voice was tight, shadowed with worry. "If someone should… come after him, he needs to…"

Padmé stopped, shaking, tears standing in her eyes and when Anakin hugged her, he could feel her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. 

"S'okay, Pad. I'm going to be fine, Who's going to get me here? Huh?" he put every bit of reassurance into his voice as Padmé tried to hug him flat again. "Besides, Angel, I said I was going to marry you, and I have to grow up to do that, right?"

__

Bloody…

Anakin nearly bit his tongue out of his head in dismay. What he felt for Padmé, even the nickname he had given her, was something he kept very close to his heart. There was something between them, some sort of bond on a level that he could not quite reach, but was aware of nonetheless. Padmé admitted to feeling something, too, but still said that he was far too young to even a passing thought of marriage.

"Highness… Padmé," Obi-Wan knelt beside them. "I won't let anything happen to him, or to you. But you asked me to advise you, how can I advise you - or teach you, Anakin - when I'm not trusted?"

There was frustration in the man's tone, but no anger. 

Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, Padmé looked at Anakin and it was almost as if he could feel her question in his head.

Slowly, one eye on Obi-Wan, Anakin nodded in response. 

A small line appeared between Padmé's brows.

Then, faint and distorted, as if a gnat whispered in his ear. ::: … you sure …? ::: 

Feeling a similar line form between his own brow, he concentrated on each word until he could see the characters that made it. 

::: What happens if we don't trust him? :::

The question suddenly caught his attention the way a shiny bit of metal could hypnotize a womp rat. What if he… they… did not trust Obi-Wan? What would…

It was as if the ground fell away from beneath his feet. As if he was slapped skyward by some monstrous hand and into a void so dark that it hurt his brain to look at it. Images rampaged through his senses like the mother of all sandstorms.

__

The red-and-black face of Padmé's nightmares looked at him with mad yellow eyes and a mocking smile, "Young brother…"

Anakin felt his chest compress, his mouth open and throat corded. 

__

The scream was swallowed by the roar of fire and flame, the stink of sulfur and molten rock and he was burning oh all of him was burning. In utter horror he raised his hand and could see his bones blacken and puff into dust and vapor.

Padmé lay on a funeral bier, burning, her hair lifting in the heat and flame until she took on the appearance of an angel with wings of orange fire.

Not just Padmé was aflame, but the whole world, even scores of worlds burned. Lives by the billions flashed into bright sparks and then winked out, gone forever but for the taste of ash and smoke.

And all of it was his fault. Padmé's death, all of the death and pain and misery was going to be_ because of him._

The Sith looked at him. "Death may have me, but I will still win. Young brother." It smiled.

Anakin Skywalker fell within himself, fleeing into the deepest part of his mind and soul, there to hide in utter terror.

~

Once, on a mission with Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan had been graced with the experience of an earthquake. Something woke him from a sound sleep, refused to let him rest, and had sent him leaping out a window when the shock reached the surface an hour later. 

The disturbance in the Force slammed into him now with the same strength, only it was Anakin's mind that seemed about to shake apart. The boy's throat corded, but only a silent rush of air escaped. His eyes shifted and darted at sights only he could see. Torrents of emotion flew outwards like a star shedding shells of gasses before going nova. The boy suddenly went limp, his eyes rolling back in his head. Padmé was too frozen in shock to do anything but stare at the body of her friend lying in her arms. 

As Obi-Wan reached for the boy's presence in the Force, he could only hope that the Council remained as blissfully ignorant of this as they seemingly were about everything else. Whatever it was that had happened, it had sent Anakin into full retreat. It was as if the boy had pulled everything inward, hiding deep within himself so that only the faintest trace of his presence could be felt at all.

The waves of emotion came from Padmé as she fought for calm; her emotional state was severely unstable.

"Padmé." He projected calm, wrapped her in it. "Padmé."

Her eyes shifted to him, but her face was too pale, her breathing too rapid. "He heard me."

"What?" Obi-Wan was puzzled.

"I asked him if he was sure that we could trust you. I only got part of his answer and then…" Her breathing hitched with the words. "… this… something we did made this happen… oh Ani…"

"What are you talking…" 

"S-sometimes, he knows when I'm having nightmares. I almost always know when he's feeling homesick." The young woman rocked the unconscious body in her arms. "Even when he teases about marrying me, I sometimes almost think that it might not be teasing."

The Jedi rocked back on his heels. It took months, sometimes years, for a bond to develop to the point where two people could impart anything more than vague impressions - and yet this young, entirely untrained pair had managed it a few weeks! The part about marriage he skipped over for now, but the rest of it had staggering implications. 

"I need you to tell me everything. I can't help him, or you, if I'm missing vital information." Gently he reached for Padmé, brushing back her hair, keeping his voice as soft as his touch. Keeping her calm. "Even if it seems silly, or trivial, I must know. Please, for both your sakes, let me in."

His master would have said it better - or maybe not have had to say it at all – but it was enough to make Padmé spill everything. 

Apparently, the pair told each other things that they had never confided to anyone else. They shared experiences, talked their dreams over with each other, provided each other with support and care that had gone from seed to full flower in almost no time at all. They were friends, confidants, playmates, and protectors – not to mention accomplices, cohorts and conspirators. Anakin's live-for-the-moment and caution-to-the-winds personality was tempered by Padmé's methodical and responsible character. In turn, the boy gave a young woman with much so bear a sense of play and respite. 

Obi-Wan had been hoping to wean them away from their mutual attachment – above all else, a Jedi was required to avoid such – but now thought it might not only be impossible, but inadvisable. Gently, he loosened Padmé's hold on Anakin and wrapped the boy in his cloak, standing, bringing Padmé to her feet with him. 

"I think I have enough for now. What we need to do is to get Anakin back to his room, or to some place he thinks of as safe, and then we can bring him out of this." Sometimes strong visions could rattle the most attuned master. What such a vision might do to an untrained child… "I do need your help, Padmé. In fact, I don't think that I can do this without you. Now, that tunnel you came out of…"

Padmé nodded and went to what appeared to be a bas-relief three-lobed leaf on one of the stone benches. Carefully pressing inward, the leaf seemed to sink into the stone, stopping with a click. Then she stood in front of the part of the frieze that had folded down, planted one foot on one of the stones ringing a bed of flowers. It began to sink under her weight, and the rasp of stone on stone came again.

The wall folded down, revealing a dimly lit corridor carved out of solid rock. Padmé climbed up and in, Obi-Wan followed her with the weight of the unconscious child in his arms.

~

Padmé was aware that she was babbling, but knew if she stopped talking, she would start screaming instead. Ani was so still and pale in Jedi Kenobi's robe that he looked…

__

Nonono… not dead… not dead… not like that little boy at Sia. Not like all the little boys who died on my watch… not Ani…how could I tell Master Jinn…please, not my friend… please Lord Death, pass him by, you've reaped so much from this poor world… how would I explain to his mother… how can I explain it to all their mothers…

"The tunnels are color coded." She plucked the first subject that passed through her mind. "Red, blue and yellow are the primary routes. Blue always follows the river, red is for the Government Center and yellow is for the city itself."

By the time they came out of the maintenance closet in the family wing, she had babbled her way through ten millennia years of Naboo's more unsavory history. "… and this is a one-way exit. If you want to get back into the same tunnel, you have to go to the refresher in the fourth room on the left. Flush the sanunit once, then turn on the cold water in the shower. Flush the san twice and turn off the cold water. The back of the shower folds up and you have five seconds to go through…"

They exited into the quiet of the family wing, across from Anakin's room.

Padmé opened the door, and the room's downlighting came on. Obi-Wan started toward the bed, only to have the young woman pull him by the sleeve to the window seats.

"Ani never uses the bed. He likes the window seats because of the waterfall." As many times as she had been here, she knew that. Turning back to the bed as the Jedi laid the still form on the cushions, she tore off the blankets and returned to the window seat. Bundling Anakin in them, she then climbed over him to open the windows, letting the rush of noise and moisture fill the room. "Now what do we do?"

"We wait." Climbing into the embrasure, he settled himself so that Anakin was between the two of them. 

Padmé opened her mouth to protest and was fixed with a stern look from the young Jedi. "I know you dislike of waiting, but right now there is nothing else that we can do for him. We can be here to keep him warm and support him in a place he associates with safety, but until he comes back out of himself there is nothing we can do."

"But…"

"Until he is awake and can tell us what the vision was, we can't do anything. I can't tell if the vision is something from inside Anakin or…" Obi-Wan swallowed. "Or is it was… sent."

"Can that be done?" She felt ridiculous, pulling the covers up to her chin like a child afraid of boggles. 

"It can. I've read that Sith or Fallen Jedi can set subtle bonds and use them to manipulate the unwitting." The Jedi's face was suddenly an implacable mask. "I fear that we do not need to wait for the Sith to discover him. I think that one already has."

Padmé's mind finished the thought. If the vision had been a Sith attack on Anakin, than that meant that the second Sith was somewhere nearby. The very skin tried to crawl off her body.

"This makes it even more imperative that I train him," Obi-Wan hesitated. "And you as well."

"What?" Just when she thought the day could hold no more surprises.

"Sleep, Padmé." Obi-Wan's voice filled her head and weighed it down to the pillow. Just before her too-heavy eyelids closed, one last thought slipped across her fading perception.

__

Maybe I will paint myself blue and ride off on that shaak, after all.

~


	6. Some Other Future's Past 6

Author's Note: I'm so glad that you reviewers are enjoying the tale! There's MUCH more to come. :)

~

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter Six

~

When Anakin awoke, the familiar sound the falls greeted him. Padmé was asleep next to him, but this time he was the one bundled in blankets. On the other side of him, wrapped in the brown cloak of the Jedi, was Obi-Wan. Anakin doubted that he could get out of here without waking one or the other.

The inside of his head felt like someone had been banging around in there with a rock. Even the soft, mist-diffused light was enough to make his eyes water in pain. 

Even worse than the pain in his head was the pain in his soul. The bad dreams that had haunted his nights were no longer confined, now coming for him while he was awake. Anakin gladly would have traded the mad visage of the Sith for every nightmare he ever had – even the ones about the empty black armor that waited for him at every turn.

The tears in his eyes were not from pain – they were from fear and guilt. The vision had been true, he knew that nothing that powerful could be anything other than absolute truth. People would suffer and even die because of him – unthinkable numbers of them, even entire worlds. 

Master Yoda had been right – he was dangerous, he was doomed to be the worst monster in all of history. 

An idea flared to life, giving him a light in the blackness of his depression. If he left, if he went so far away that nobody could find him, then he could keep everyone safe. The idea cheered him immensely even as his throat tightened almost unbearably at the thought of leaving Padmé. He would go farther away than even Tattooine, so far out into wild space that nobody would ever find him. The hermit worlds that a lot of spacers spoke about were sometimes one month jumps out from Tattooine. Isolated on those odd worlds with others who shunned contact with other beings, he would never harm anyone.

If he could sneak out of bed, that is. 

Carefully wiggling down tot he foot of his unconventional bed, he managed to get his back to the wall and step over Obi-Wan's legs. Landing softly on the floor, he froze, standing in place for a count of sixty before moving again. Creeping off to the 'fresher, he scooped up his scant possessions and pack from the wardrobe.

Once the morning necessities were taken care of, he carefully repacked his things. Everything he had was here, memories in every bit of stowaway sand or thread of clothing. Memories of his mother and home, visions of his Angel, the love of Qui-Gon, and the friendship of Obi-Wan were things he wanted to hold on to. Almost guiltily, he packed the blue silks and his page's tabard; he wanted to remember the girls whom he had added to his definition of 'family.'

Angrily he dashed the tears out of his eyes. No family for him, he'd only wind up hurting them – his dream had shown him that, too.

It was most likely that he'd have to stow away on some outbound heavy freighter. Somehow, he didn't think that nine-year-olds got much work as hire-crew in the Republic. Shouldering his pack once more, he walked to the door thinking about which tunnel would bring him out at the commercial spaceport on the outskirts of Theed.

and was met by the implacable gaze of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Padmé's wounded look as soon as he opened the door.

So much for leaving quietly.

"I have to go or I'll hurt you and a lot more people. The dream showed me." He made his voice as threatening as he could. "I'll be a Sith, just like Master Yoda knew I would. I'm going to go away – so far away that nobody can ever find me and I won't hurt anyone."

"Master Yoda, is it? I'll give him Sith" Padmé was on her feet, eyes flashing. "Anakin, don't you tell me that little green troll"

Obi-Wan gave her a firm look that sat her on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry, Jedi Kenobi, but for anyone to say that about a nine-year-old" Padmé protested. "It's almost like making a prophecy and then setting the events in motion that will see it fulfilled."

"For a group that refused to even consider the return of the Sith as a possibility, I fear they might now be seeing Sith under every rock." The gruesome tattooed body of the being Obi-Wan had killed had not been helped by being smashed and burned by its fall into the pit, but it had forced the Council to believe. "The future is always in motion, set only once we make a choice and set on that course. There are probabilities, Anakin, but no certainties."

"But I saw" His voice cracked as the terror of those sights renewed. It had to be the truth. "Billions, Obi-Wan, and you and Padmé and it was all fire and I did I will do all of it"

White edged Anakin's vision and his knees gave way. 

~

If the Council did not get wind of this, Obi-Wan thought grimly, they had even less collective sensitivity than Qui-Gon gave them credit for. Anakin's fear shoved against the Jedi's perception like a windstorm strong enough to actually lean into and Padmé's alarm shrilled storm warnings of its own. 

For a moment Obi-Wan felt helpless. Only a week ago he had been a padawan, secure in his master's guidance, developing confidence in his own abilities. Knighthood was something that was coming soon, but he had been content to wait. Now he was a Knight, on his own, unable to even consult with his master or anyone else whom he trusted. How could he help even one of these powerful children, much less both? 

Padmé threw herself at Anakin, wrapping her arms around him, rocking him and swearing to keep him safe – to protect him the way he protected her.

His resolve firmed in that moment. They could protect each other, and he would protect both of them. They would not actually be his padawans, he told himself, instead he would just be minding them until he could contrive the return of Qui-Gon. Kneeling, he surrounded both younglings with calm and reassurance as well as with his arms, soothing them until he no longer felt the sharp prickles and jabs of their emotions. When they were quiet, with his imposed calm giving way to their own internal calm, they stayed in his embrace for a while before the subtle drawing-away prompted Obi-Wan to let go and sit back. 

"Going to stick around a bit?" he asked Anakin.

The boy simply nodded.

"Good. I've much to teach you and it would a be a little inconvenient if I had to chase you across the galaxy to do it." Obi-Wan smiled, "Besides, you wouldn't want to have me in front of my master trying to explain how I misplaced his padawan and the Queen of Naboo. If he lectured me about losing my lightsaber"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes in comic dismay, bringing soft chuckles from the pair. Though young, Obi-Wan thought, neither was very child-like. Anakin's upbringing had left him with few boyish dreams and a cynicism far more suited to someone Obi-Wan's age. Padmé had chosen her course when she was a child Anakin's age, but she still harbored a passionate idealism that was only now starting to fray under the strain of recent events. 

"I want you both to promise me something." He caught and held their eyes with his own. "I want to help you both, but I need you to _tell_ me. If it seems silly or trivial or childish, but it troubles you, I must know in order to help you. I need to know what you feel, what you think. Anakin, if that vision last night was an attack of some sort, we need to try to find out who is sending it. Padmé, your nightmares might be a less severe version of the same thing. But before I can find out, I need you to work on trusting me, I will do my best to earn and be worthy of it."

The pair looked at each other, seeming to consult in the way they had last night. 

"Do you think that there really might be another Sith here?" Anakin asked, his face stiff with fear at that possibility.

Since Anakin had been unconscious during that conversation Obi-Wan concentrated on the two in front of him and sent his reply.

::: As I told Padmé, I think that it is a possibility. ::: 

A soft buzzing seemed to sound in his ears and Padmé made a frustrated face. 

::: Pad why can't hear ::: The 'voice' was clearly Anakin's, fading in and out like a weak comm signal. :::: can hear me? :::

::: Because you are both very new to this, and your thoughts are interfering with your concentration. I take it that you both can hear me with no trouble? ::: 

When the pair nodded, he switched back to vocal speech. "Right now, your thoughts and worries are interfering with the ability to both project your speech, and to hear what the other person is saying. Also, projecting speech is a matter of targeting, as well as being able to form and maintain the thought."

Padmé asked the next question. "Targeting? Targeting what?" 

Obi-Wan felt a huge relief. A master could not teach if he could not lead the student to ask the questions. "There are areas in the brain that 'hear' telepathy, much like a trained musician hears music. When we listen to a symphony, all we hear is the music as a whole. A trained maestro would be able to pick out distinct instruments and the parts they play."

"If we aren't targeting right, could someone else hear us?" Worry colored Anakin's voice and shaded Padmé's face.

"I don't think so." Obi-Wan did his best to sound certain. "I can barely hear you and I'm not three feet from you, but all the same, I think that we should only speak that way when we are all together."

Anakin and Padmé nodded in agreement. 

"Now, Padmé, you mentioned that today was Rest Day?" he continued. "Is anyone likely to be looking for you?"

"No, not unless there's an emergency. I usually make myself available"

"And shouldn't we train?" Anakin piped up and Padmé nodded. 

Obi-Wan could see Amidala coming back layer by layer, the Queen-self submerging Padmé once more in duty and obligation.

"Your Highness?" Obi-Wan's sudden formality got her attention. "Might I ask when the last time you actually had a Rest Day?"

Her long pause and darting eyes were answer enough.

"As your advisor, I am required to offer my counsel even if you do not wish to hear it. Take the Rest Day, you and Anakin both." He reached out and laid a hand on each youngster's head. "There will be time for me to start your training and sort out our schedules tomorrow. For now, what can we do that has nothing to do with politics, Sith, Jedi or the Republic?"

"How about the Midway?" Anakin suggested.

The Midway, as it turned out, was a subsurface warren of broad tunnels between Theed and the commercial spaceport. Originally meant for the storage and movement of cargo, it had evolved into a well-policed amusement area. There was a small district devoted to pleasures of the flesh and exotic intoxicants, but the main entertainments consisted of thrill rides, high quality simulator games and games of dexterity. 

All things considered, Obi-Wan was not at all surprised that Anakin had found it. 

It was no shock that Anakin gravitated to the thrill rides and sims, but it was that Padmé seemed to enjoy them as well. She even managed a credible job in the Headhunter sim with both he and Anakin coaching her. The podrace sim nearly made Obi-Wan lose the greasy, salty, starchy thing on a stick he had eaten and made Padmé elicit a promise from Anakin that he would never, ever get in the real thing again.

The games of dexterity were as old – perhaps – as humankind itself. The bright booths offered chances to pit one's hand-eye-coordination against a variety of deceptively simple-looking challenges. He and Anakin engaged in an unspoken contest up and down the broad tunnel, collecting chits by the pocketful. At the redemption kiosk, they came out close to equal and pooled their resources to claim a large plush Wookie doll, which they presented to Padmé. 

Padmé thanked them both, then with an odd little smile asked the proprietor of the ring-toss stand for a bucket of rings. From then on, the stunned man and boy tailed her from booth to booth as she decimated each game. At the end of the concourse, she presented them each with a stuffed toy bantha large enough to be used as a footstool or a small table. 

In all, it was a very good time.

They returned to the palace in the evening rain - still a matter of delighted fascination to Anakin – and had a very light late dinner. Someone saw fit to hide something called Tum-Eez in Obi-Wan's napkin, which he disdained to take. Padmé and Anakin did most of the talking – albeit punctuated with yawns – preparing themselves to ease back into the next day's routine.

Obi-Wan asked for an hour immediately following breakfast and both agreed. Padmé went off to bed with a hug for Obi-Wan and a more unrestrained one for Anakin that was returned with equal enthusiasm. After seeing Anakin into bed, Obi-Wan settled in his own room. 

Opening the windows, he settled into a comfortable position and stilled his mind with the opening sequence for meditation. His thoughts quieted as he sorted through the experiences of the past day. The bond he shared with Qui-Gon was still present, if attenuated by distance. Dimly, he could feel some healing energy and sent a surge of love and support down the bond. 

Two more tentative bonds were being formed, he saw. Thin and fragile, they would need a great deal of tending to grow strong and healthy. One ran to the now-sleeping Anakin – feelings of safety and contentment echoed by those Obi-Wan could feel coming from Padmé. The day away had done them both a great deal of good. 

The two were mostly good-natured, though far from docile. Still, perhaps training the two would not be so hard as he feared.

With a feeling of gratitude, he sank into deep meditation as the clouds cleared enough to let the moons shine through.

~


	7. Some Other Future's Past 7

Some Other Future's Past 

Chapter Seven

~

The morning was cool, the sun barely warming the east-facing garden where a young man led a group in a series of graceful movements. Each movement was separate, something all to itself, yet flowed into the next move without seam. Even if the graceful movements looked effortless, there was still a fine sheen of sweat on nearly every brow. Some had to consciously remember the method of breathing that they had learned.

The students were varied – from an adult man with skin the color of well-aged wood, to a girl of an age to wear her pale blonde hair in two tails and bring her doll with her to class. 

While the young man's teaching was serious, his students wore expressions of relaxed, but complete concentration. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi felt a small thrill of pride. They were all learning so well! From Panaka to little Cimmiré, they had made and continued to make remarkable progress. 

Slowing his movements, he began the end of the morning exercise and began to ease his students into mediation. Each dropped gracefully into their chosen position, spine straight, shoulders relaxed. Some knelt, some sat cross-legged with the upturned soles of their feet resting on their thighs. Obi-Wan had tried to teach that it was not appearance, but the state of mind that mattered.

Front and center sat Padmé and Anakin. Clad in the rich blue that had become the color of the royal court, the pair was as peaceful as could be. 

Obi-Wan fought a smile - appearances were deceiving. When he had thought that training the two might not be so difficult, he had been in a very optimistic mood. 

His primary students were rugged individualists with stubborn, passionate natures, though they tended to express themselves very differently. 

Anakin was as direct and as diplomatic as a punch in the nose. The boy's approach to obstacles was not to go around, but to blow right on through and let the pieces fall where they may. 

With little tolerance for bullying – either of himself or anyone else - Anakin had been at odds with some of the older pages in the beginning. All of the children in the program had experienced the horrors of war, but some looked to make themselves feel better by inflicting pain on the others. Anakin, as an off-worlder, former slave, and as one who had been denied Jedi training became a prime target. The bullies underestimated whom they were picking on – Anakin might be of average size for a boy of nine, but he was mostly muscle from hard labor as Watto's shop boy. 

Anakin fought until he was out cold or on top. 

Erinaé Merron herself would come to take charge of those who instigated the fight – reportage was quite accurate, as the seven, eight, and nine-year-olds idolized Anakin as their protector from the 'big kids.' Obi-Wan, Padmé and Erinaé Merron would then lecture Anakin – who was in every case absolutely unrepentant – about the ideals of Naboo pacifism and Jedi philosophy on the use of violence.

Anakin finally retorted with, "You know, I'd really like to be a pacifist or establish a dialogue, but the people who want to beat the stuffing out of me aren't really interested." 

Obi-Wan finally settled for 'defense of self or others' tack, with the approval of the Protector of Innocents. Anakin accepted it and managed to get into more brawls than before. When the boy did not find trouble, it seemed that trouble became lonely and went to find him.

Padmé was the steadfast diplomat and idealist. She believed that there was almost always a diplomatic solution and if it took political gamesmanship to get the solution implemented, then she would hold her nose and wade right in. In less that two years, the determined young woman had cleaned up the bureaucracy, streamlined the interfaces between the government and her subjects, and stood up to the Trade Federation. Not to mention the fact that she stood up to the entire Senate, came back to a world under siege, then proceeded to trick and defeat Nute Gunray in her own throne room. 

Her people loved her for it and a campaign to extend her rule past the ten year limit was underway – over her objections.

Nearly as hard-headed as Anakin, Padmé had the tendency to chart her own course over the reasonable cautionings of her advisers. While she was undoing years of inaction, it was youthful impatience that was her greatest liability. 

Another problem was the trait of taking everything upon herself. Obi-Wan had counseled her often that she could not do it all, or be it all, or save them all or help them all. Amidala was a great Queen, but Amidala was a great Queen because of Padmé Naberrie's great heart. Even the name she had chosen for her reign reflected that, _ami d'ala_ could literally be translated as 'she of love/compassion/devotion.'

When the pair finally told him about their nightmares, Obi-Wan had given himself an eye-crossing headache in his haste to get them under shield. Both seemed to be having the requisite number of post-traumatic dreams, and ones that were appropriate to their ages and development. 

However, Anakin's bad dreams were mostly visions, and the one that had knocked him unconscious Obi-Wan was sure to his bones had been inflicted. Padmé's dreams seemed to serve to sharpen her doubts in her own abilities or her fitness to rule. Once shielded, their nightmares decreased in strength and frequency. They were more rested, more relaxed and were having some success with lucid dreaming - conscious control of the events in their dreams.

Obi-Wan ended the meditation just as the chimes from the sunbells sounded in the garden. The students stirred, opening eyes and stretching before coming to their feet with varying degrees of grace. The 'pods' of pages coalesced around Anakin and bright chatter wove its ribbon around the single chimes of the sunbell. The handmaidens and the few adults who braved the early hour gathered around Padmé; their more subdued murmuring a supple undertone. 

The pages scattered like birds taking wing as Anakin exhorted them not to be late for breakfast and to bring their completed lessons for review. The boy had emerged as the leader of the Queen's Palace pods and his word was law.

"And yes, Cimmiré, you may bring your doll to Afternoon Court. If Glian thinks differently, he can come see me himself."

The little girl tucked her doll – in a proper page's uniform – under her arm and gave Anakin a shy hug before running to catch up with the rest of the pod. Females of any age just had a way of wrapping the boy around their fingers. 

The adults surrounding Padmé left with more decorum, but still smiling. The harmony would last until the end of Afternoon Court - by which time tempers would be frayed, patience failing and all the relaxed purposefulness of the morning gone in a tangle of tense muscles. Still, the peace and attunement lasted a little longer each week and afternoon exercises would soon be less of a refresher course and more of a workout. 

Anakin and Padmé turned to each other with their 'talking' faces on. The pair had progressed well in their use of telepathy, Obi-Wan could hear Anakin very well and Padmé managed to project full sentences. Obi-Wan tuned in to the conversation. They finally trusted him – not completely, but enough that tonight Obi-Wan would be able to deep-scan then with the Force, looking for things that should not be present.

::: don't like it, Ani. :::

::: It's the only reason that we caught those four assassins in the first place, Pad. You may not like me peeking, but I'd like seeing you dead even less. :::

The subject was the practice of Anakin probing the crowds at the Courts and Amidala's public appearances. Obi-Wan shook his head. Anakin was a strong proponent of 'whatever works' whereas Padmé sometimes hamstrung herself on her own ethics. Obi-Wan often wound up as a mediator between the two, balancing Anakin's expediency against Padmé's idealism. 

::: Everyone had a right to their own thoughts, Ani. :::

::: Pad, the intent to kill someone tends to be about as private as one of those hoversigns we saw on Coruscant. I might have to read them to find it, but it's the first thing that I find. :::

::: Highness, Anakin is right. The intent to kill, even in the mind of the most experienced assassin is a thought that overrides everything else. ::: Obi-Wan entered the conversation. ::: I must agree with Anakin in that your safety is of paramount concern. :::

::: Captain Panaka agrees. ::: added Anakin – with a rather smug tone. ::: You could talk it over with him this afternoon at close combat practice. :::

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at his student's initiative but was not surprised. Anything that concerned Padmé was a matter of prime importance to Anakin. 

::: I doubt, Padmé, that you would manage to convince him. The good captain is singularly pragmatic. ::: But before Anakin could get too smug, Obi-Wan added privately, ::: And you and I need to have another go at developing that moral code, young one. I admire your initiative, but your follow-through needs some polishing, :::

Padmé projected a wealth of emotion down the bond – she was embarrassed by their protectiveness, indignant and annoyed at both of them. 

Suddenly the image of a bas-relief angel wearing Padmé's face popped into Obi-Wan's optical center. The gracefully winged figure in flowing robes set down her scroll, then stuck out her tongue in the rudest – and juiciest - possible manner.

Obi-Wan was about to join Anakin in his delighted laughter – the images had been quite sharp – when some instinct made him shield their link. 

::: Anyway, Ani,::: Padmé was saying. ::: Those bounty hunters you told me about seem like a fairly ostentatious bunch, I'd think we notice them in any setting. :::

Anakin looked inquisitively at Obi-Wan even as he answered. ::: Bounty hunters are showy about being tough, scaring their victims is part of what they do. Scared people make mistakes. Assassins don't want to scare their victims. Assassins don't want to be noticed at all because a noticed assassin is a dead assassin. :::

There was a presence in the garden with them. A familiar one, but not one that Obi-Wan was pleased to discover. He listened to the conversation with half his attention. 

::: I don't like that you know these things, Ani. Nobody your age should have to know things like that. ::: Padmé was saying. It hurt her deeply that any being should have to live as Anakin and Shmi Skywalker had lived. 

::: On some worlds I'm old enough for military service, Padmé. I am what I am, Angel mine. I was a slave on a Hutt-run world. I know what I know. ::: For a moment Anakin's mind-voice sounded very old, too old for any child to bear. It was a bleak thought that there were so many youngsters whose experiences would shatter most adults. ::: Use it and that will make it all worth something. :::

The quiet stretched as Padmé's thoughts chased themselves. ::: I still don't like it. :::

::: I know. ::: The two sentences were layered with complex meanings and messages that only the pair could understand. 

Padmé dropped to her knees and hugged Anakin hard enough to squash the breath from his body. The pair's bonding was only reinforcing with time and proximity. Obi-Wan's itched for access to the Jedi Archive – he wanted to see if there had been any other incidents of a pair-bond this strong.

"Breakfast." Obi-Wan announced, breaking the clinch. "You will not to have time to eat if you don't unwrap, you two."

Blue eyes and brown eyes blinked at him, surprised by speech. Each of his students sent inquiries layered with concern.

"Go along," Obi-Wan ordered sternly. "I'll be a little late. A matter had presented itself that I must see to."

The pair stood and bowed deeply from the waist. 

"Yes, Master."

"Yes, Master."

The pair led each other out of the garden, glancing back at him from time to time until the gate closed behind them.

Turning to the small grove of yellow-barked greel trees, he could see a dark shadow in the green and gold dappled light. 

"Master Windu, good morning to you." 

~

Obi-Wan did his best to keep his game-face in place. Of all the Jedi who might have come to Naboo, Mace Windu was one of the very last on the list. The thought that this might be a summons by the Council to reprimand him for his dilatory return occurred to him, but was dismissed. If the Council wanted him on Coruscant, then he would be on Coruscant and no two ways about it. 

"Knight Kenobi." The dark-skinned Jedi inclined his bald head, his tones politely impassive as always. "You do know that the Code forbids a Jedi taking more than one padawan? I counted thirty-two, all told."

Two pods of pages including Anakin, the two tenders of the podlings, seven handmaidens, the Queen, Captain Panaka, and Lieutenant Typho. Obi-Wan mentally measured his response before he spoke.

"The stresses of Court life, especially following such traumatic events, dictate the necessity of having a clear mind, Master Windu." Keeping his tones carefully dispassionate, Obi-Wan continued, "The younger members have duties that would tax an experienced adult, and the recent trauma all have experienced is eased by these classes. They are all capable and motivated learners." 

"And Anakin Skywalker? Is he capable and motivated learner?" Stepping out of the grove, Mace confronted Obi-Wan. "The Council ordered that he was not to be trained."

_Peace. I am peace._

"And so I have not. I merely seek to ease his way into a new life that suits him. We ripped him away from his home, rejected him twice, and then tried to toss him like so much garbage after the Council did its level best to rip his spirit to shreds." Obi-Wan blinked in surprise at his own vehemence. "I also think that the Council was wrong, and stubbornly, willfully, against all reason, continues to be wrong. Instead of looking to a child of nine for your Sith, look within your own ranks. Almost fifteen hundred years of bloody awful advice had to come from somewhere!"

_Maybe not so peaceful. Anakin's temper is rubbing off on me._

The Jedi Master listened as if Obi-Wan was commenting on the state of the garden. 

"You sound a great deal like Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan. He does well, and is progressing in his healing, though it is feared that much of the damage cannot be undone."

"I know." Obi-Wan took satisfaction in the flitting expression of startlement in the eyes of the normally aloof Council member. 

"Yes, your bond with Qui-Gon is unusually strong, but you are a Knight now and it is time to put such things behind you. " Mace's fingers tugged sharply at the padawan braid the Obi-Wan bore months after his knighting. "This for instance."

"Master Jinn is not dead, Master Windu." Only the padawan of a slain master could remove his own braid upon his ascent to knighthood or ask someone to do it in his master's place. "Until my Master removes my braid – as is traditional – I will wear it." 

The more sunbells continued to chime as the warmth of the rays reached them. Master Windu continued to regard Obi-Wan with his usual impassive gaze and Obi-Wan did his best to emulate his master at his most steadfast. So involved were they in the standoff, that Anakin's voice nearly sent Obi-Wan leaping into the air.

"Padmé wants to know if you are coming to breakfast or if the two of you are going to play statue in the garden all day." From his tone, it appeared that Anakin had taken on a fresh load of rude.

Of all times, Padmé had to pick now to force an issue and what a way to do it!

::: You are perfectly capable of asking me the question yourself, Padmé. :::

The honeyed tones of Padmé's speech rang in Obi-Wan's head as she became the irresistable force.

::: Busy. Talk to Ani about it. And hurry it up, the kitchen made mulna and weca nut muffins. :::

Obi-Wan turned his gaze upon the boy, who responded with a bland look that was the cover for Anakin's transmutation into the fabled immovable object.

::: We will speak on this later. :::

::: Yes, Master. ::: Anakin nodded, his response layered with the opinion that at times his master could be dense enough to bend light. 

The boy then turned his gaze to Mace, studying him with a dispassionate expression that did not belong on the face of a boy a month short of his tenth birthday. The Jedi master in turn regarded the boy with hooded eyes that made Obi-Wan think of a nexu contemplating a future meal. 

"Until breakfast, then, Master. Jedi Windu." Anakin retreated with a polite bow, underlining the fact that he considered Obi-Wan as a legitimate authority and a Jedi Master as a side issue. 

A thought darted at Padmé showed her to be legitimately busy, and in a decidedly short temper. Obi-Wan retreated with the mental equivalent of a sternly shaken finger at his willful student. Well, one of them, anyway.

"They have made progress, indeed, Obi-Wan," Mace said as he watched Anakin Skywalker's receding back. "Remarkable progress."

~

The Morning room was the same cheery sight as ever, but Padmé felt as grim and gray as a northern winter storm. 

The news from the Republic became worse and worse. Naboo's enemies seemed to multiply on all sides. The Trade Federation and the Commerce Guild howled about Naboo's fledgling ties to the worlds of the Outer Rim and beyond. The Banking Clan tried to freeze Naboo's assets when Padmé decreed open bid on the reconstruction contracts instead of using the Clan's approved contractors. The Techno Union head, Wat Tambor, came directly to Court and protested to Padmé's facewhen contracts for weapons installations, capital ships and fighters went to Seinar Security Systems and the Corellian Drive Yards. 

Padmé was determined that those who had authored and profited from Naboo's misery would never profit from her rebuilding. It was not making Naboo any new enemies, simply exposing the more artfully hidden existing ones.

The buildup of the System Defense Force was being contested everywhere from the Courts to the Senate Floor. Everyone from the Republic Military to the Jedi seemed to be intent on tossing a spanner into the works rather than concede that Naboo had not only been left unprotected – her population had been ravaged unchecked by the invaders. 

Invaders whose leaders – and their accomplices - still walked free while contesting the charges in court.

It was as had she said to Chancellor Palpatine – the Republic no longer functioned. Instead, the corrupt and unchecked influence of special interests seemed to be strangling and twisting everything for which the Republic was supposed to stand. In turn, Palpatine begged more time and patience as he attempted to rein in the senate, the bureaucrats, and the guilds.

Sipping at her mug of sweetbark tea, she watched the newsfeed from Corellia. Boisterous, expressive, temperamental and swift of repartee, the Corellians were most unlikely allies for the reserved, soft-spoken and restrained Naboo. Yet, these outspoken folk had landed firmly in Naboo's corner – the junior senator had even piloted the Corellian senatorial box into a game of bumper-cars with some of Naboo's more outspoken foes. 

Corellia, an old and influential society, had long been independent of the Republic in many ways. They now seemed to see it as their duty to mentor the Naboo, even offering to train the new security and military forces. Garm bel Iblis had been named as ambassador to the Royal Court and brought with him a magnetism that had the most reserved of the Court charmed to the toes.

She wished that she had him here now. 

Restlessness itched up her spine and she concentrated on holding to the serene focus of the morning. 

::: Ani? ::: It was good to be able to 'talk' this way. While you could never actually 'read' someone's mind, one was able to assess many things from the emotions that came with the thoughts.

::: Almost there. I had to talk to Glian and then with Deriné. ::: 

Padmé rolled her eyes. Glian Sabiet was a thirteen-year-old male page who tried to run the other, younger pages.

::: Can I hope that this talk with Glian did not involve bloodshed? :::

::: Not a drop. Deriné actually beat me to it. It took me ::: The door opened at the end of the room. " less time than I thought."

Anakin was dressed in the deep blue tunic, jerkin, and trousers of his page's uniform with a pair of soft, low black boots. He was much more like the boy he had been on Tattooine instead of the tense, grieving, traumatized child of three months ago. Not to say that he was any less intense – he wasn't – but against all of her expectations he had become a good, true friend. 

If she held their traditional hug a little longer than usual, it was in appreciation. For someone in her position, a true friend was a rare thing. 

::: But you have Eritaé, Sabé, Rabé, Cordé, Dormé, Yané, Saché, Ric, the Panakas, and Obi-Wan :::

::: I know. I'm just not in the best mood today. Having Master Windu show up like that ::: 

"He can't actually do anything, Pad," Anakin reminded her. "The Courts upheld our rights every time. Are there any sunberry foldovers?"

Padmé released Anakin from her arms and sniffed in mock disgust. "Hmmph. Sometimes I think you only stayed for the food. You eat enough of it."

"I'm a growing boy!" Anakin protested with a grin as he headed to the sideboard. 

"Keep eating like that and you'll grow horizontally instead of vertically!" She teased as Anakin scooped up three of the flaky pastries and moved on to the basket of muffins and cream.

"Like the Captain would ever let anyone take enough of a break to gain a centimeter of anything but muscle," Anakin snorted indignantly. "Between the martial arts and running everywhere, I'll be a skeleton before I'm eleven. I can't believe that I have to be fourteen to drive a landspeeder but I can still take flight training and I'm not even ten!"

"No one ever thought that someone would qualify for flight training before being old enough to drive, Ani." Padmé smiled into her mug. Anakin had a voracious intellect and once he could be persuaded to sit still, his progress was amazing. 

"I've been driving since I was five." Anakin started back to the table, balancing a plate piled high with food and a mug of khaffa. "I they're coming, Pad."

Just as Anakin spoke, she felt the approach of Obi-Wan and Master Windu. The normal breakfast contingent had been asked to make other plans. Padmé wanted this meeting private. Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly, sending the trepidation and worry with it. She just wished that she could avoid the lecture that Obi-Wan would tender in private, though she had the feeling Anakin had one due, as well.

Anakin had sensed the Jedi's presence through Obi-Wan's unease and Padmé had decided to take the initiative. Granted, Anakin had phrased the request with slightly less charm than she had intended, but it got the point across. If anything, perhaps she and Ani should lecture Obi-Wan for trying to hide Master Windu's presence!

This was her Court, her rule, and her people. Even if she could use the Force – something that she found both delightful and fearsome - that did not put her in the purview of the Jedi Council. 

There was a polite knock at the door and she locked eyes with Anakin.

::: Don't worry, Pad. ::: The point-of-view of a Headhunter pilot dusting an opponent flashed at her and she smiled.

"Come in, Master. Jedi Windu."

Obi-Wan entered the room, Master Windu at his side, their sober attire seeming jarringly out of place against the cheerful frescoes and gentle colors of the Morning Room.

To say that the last hour had been uncomfortable was a massive understatement. The elder Jedi questioned everything that Obi-Wan had done here, questioned his motives and rationale and even questioned his dedication to the Order.

Obi-Wan held his ground. He had accomplished much in his time here, and would accomplish a great deal more – Council or no Council. Perhaps it was a good thing that the Council had decided not to train Anakin. The sheer level of interference caused by the presence of only one Councilor caused quite enough disruption – both of his students were tense, with Padmé in particular humming like a high-tension wire.

This morning the young monarch was attired in the least formal of her court dresses - three layers of blue silk in cream, cobalt blue and sun gold with a deep blue velvet overdress. The Uroi birds that had become a symbol of her rule were embroidered on the sleeves and skirt. However, instead of calm nesting scenes or with wings spread in flight, these birds were shown in battle stance - talons extended from the soft 'slipper' of bright feathers and the spiny ruff around the neck showing sharply. 

Anakin was more relaxed, his faith in Padmé unshakable and his trust in Obi-Wan growing by the day. There was a dark edge to Anakin's presence caused by the memories that Mace Windu prompted, and a steely determination to do whatever it took to retain his freedom. 

The usual crew was nowhere in evidence, meaning that this meal was going to be a private and probably not-so-pleasant affair.

Obi-Wan bowed to the young queen, Mace Windu following suit. "Good morning, Your Highness."

Both Anakin and Padmé rose, folded their hands against their middles, and bowed to him. 

"Good morning, Master."

"Good morning, Master."

Then, again in perfect unison, they inclined their heads in nods of respect to Master Windu. 

"Greetings to you, Councilor Windu." Padmé offered, with Anakin remaining silent. "Will you join us?"

Both men murmured polite affirmatives and helped themselves to the bounty on the sideboard. Returning with their plates to the table, Obi-Wan taking his accustomed place to Anakin's right. Mace Windu took the chair opposite them and to Padmé's left.

All was silence, other than the sounds of a meal being eaten. When Padmé spoke, it was startling.

"Master Windu. What brings you to Naboo?" Padmé asked between sips of her tea.

"I asked for a short sabbatical from my duties in the Council and Senate. It was granted and I took my leave." The inscrutable master paused, taking in the occupants of the table with a glance. "I remembered the climate as being refreshing."

"Since you left like you stepped in something nasty last time, I'd think the opposite." Obi-Wan attempted to spear Anakin with a glance, but it rolled of the boy like water off a duck's back.

Mace settled back in his chair, regarding the boy with hooded eyes. "Are you always so direct, young one?"

Anakin responded with his frank stare and typical blunt language. "It cuts the amount of bulls- "

"Language!" Obi-Wan interjected.

"Look. I don't trust you as far as I can throw Jabba the Hutt." Anakin pushed his plate aside, leveling an early version of an intimidating stare at the Jedi Master. For a moment, Obi-Wan could almost see the man that the boy would grow to be. "You and the Council have been pissing in the soup since the day you left here in a big fat snit. What's the real reason you're here?"

Padmé bent a 'we will be speaking later' look at the boy, but backed his play – much to Obi-Wan's dismay.

"As I remember, Master Windu, you and the rest of the Council left without word to anyone. You shunned the hospitality of Naboo as well as our care and regard for an injured comrade." The young queen's voice was etched with frost as she ticked off each offense on her fingers. "You attempted to interfere with the rights of a displaced child after willfully disregarding the best interests of said child. Furthermore, once you returned to Coruscant, the Jedi Council has – on multiple fronts - vigorously opposed the strengthening of our system defenses and security forces. Not to mention the repeated questioning of Naboo sovereignity."

"Give him the whole bill, m'Lady." Anakin was grimmer than Obi-Wan had ever seen him. "You kidnapped Master Jinn, and you've kept him from talking to my Master! I've sent five text messages, and all five have been bounced back."

"Are you holding Qui-Gon Jinn against his will?" Padmé was blunt, holding her temper by a thread.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, looked down at his plate and answered before Mace Windu could move his lips. "They are."

Anakin's intimidating stare was improving with practice. "And you didn't tell us?"

"It is a disciplinary matter." Master Windu spoke over steepled fingers, his gaze moving from Anakin to Padmé to Obi-Wan. "I have much respect for Qui-Gon, his intuition of the Living Force is second to none. But his ability has blinded him to the Unifying Force, and made him disregard the will of the Council too often. The Council felt that he needed time and solitude to correct himself."

"How coincidental that the will of the Force favors the will of the Council." Padmé's tone was caustic enough to etch diamond. "I thought we had evolved past the point where divine mandates were needed for rule."

Anakin came in hard on her heels. "Master Jinn told me that the Force just is, that it wills nothing, only makes likely or possible." 

"And Master Kenobi teaches that the Unifying Force and the Unfying Force are present in everything, even down to the smallest of particles." Padmé's hands were on the table, her brown eyes as intense as Anakin's.blue. "If this is so that how can you possibly say that Master Jinn is not in fact moved by a part of the Force of which the Council has little grasp?"

"As my Master often told me, my attunement to the Living Force was not my best talent," Obi-Wan said. "But in addition to his injuries, he is suffering because you have removed him from contact with living beings other than the Healers and Council. You have even turned Master Dooku away, repeatedly."

"Your bond with you master is very strong, Obi-Wan, for you to know so much at this distance." Master Windu's eyes swept the faces around the table. "And your padawans learn quickly and well, bonded as tightly to you and to each other as you have to Qui-Gon. However, as you surmised, I have other reasons for being here."

Breakfast dishes were pushed aside, all pretense of sociality dispensed with as they waited for the Master Jedi to continue. 

"The Council feels that Qui-Gon is using your bond to resist his treatment. In their opinion, it has become an attachment." Mace's dark eyes held Obi-Wan's gaze. "They intend to sever it." 

Obi-Wan felt the universe wobble around him even as Padmé and Anakin burst in with furious protests. The Code forbade attachments, was that what his bond with Qui-Gon had become? He loved his master like a father, but had that love become wrong? Had he been using it to shield himself from responsibility? Had he been using it as a crutch?

Anakin uttered two pungently earthy words. 

"Anakin!" scolded Padmé.

"Anakin!" scolded Obi-Wan.

"Well it is!" Anakin's temper was at a fine blaze. With his jaw shot forward and a stance that suggested a head-down charge, the boy was the breathing definition of stubborn. "I think what we love, who we love, makes us who we are. I love my mother, I miss her and first chance I get, I'll go back and get her. I love Padmé, I trust her and I'd do anything to protect her. I love Obi-Wan and I trust him, too. Even if he didn't trust us with certain things.."

Anakin's pointed glance let Obi-Wan know that he was still on the hook and the Jedi bowed his head in apology and recognition of the fact. 

"The bonds of love and friendship do not take away, Jedi Windu." Padmé added with utter conviction. "They give and augment. Without our bonds, between ruler and people, friend and friend, parent and child, we are only bits of actuating protoplasm – not sentient beings. Our bonds to other beings give us empathy. Our bonds to other beings civilize us."

Master Windu nodded his head, whether in agreement or simply as a signal that he had heard, Obi-Wan could not say. 

"Be that as it may, the Council intends to proceed as soon as the Healers feel that he will withstand the shock. I felt that it was wrong to take this course without warning you, Obi-Wan, but I was overruled." He paused to let his words sink in. "Before I left, and I made it clear that I was coming here, I was tasked with one more mission."

"And that is?" With all the shocks of the morning Obi-Wan could not being to guess. Bring Padmé to the Temple for training? Revoke his knighthood and send him to the Agricorps? Name Anakin as the emissary to the Hutts? Paint himself blue and ride about on a shaak?

"The Convocation is in one month." 

Padmé's face showed a dawning understanding and Anakin gave her a quizzical look. Obi-Wan merely had a sinking feeling that even without the Force he knew what Mace Windu's nest words would be.

Unhappily, he was not wrong. 

"The Convocation, young ones, is a gathering of all Jedi that takes place every fifty years. All of us not on vital assignments are called to gather in the Temple." Mace explained with a gentler tone of voice than Obi-Wan figured he possessed. "I have been tasked with bringing Obi-Wan with me upon my return to Coruscant."

~


	8. Some Other Future's Past 8

Author's Note: Hello, everyone and thanks agains for reading and reviewing. :)

There is more coming soon that will catch you all up with the posts to date on the boards at TheForce.Net, then you will have to suffer the week-long wait between posts. You see, I could not let myself post it here without a name, and I was unable to come up with one until just two weeks ago. I did not want to overload everyone with a lot of reading, so I've been posing a chapter every couple of days.

::: runs and hides :::

And there will be a new chapter up on Sunday!

~

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter Eight

~

All was silence.

Anakin felt as if a rug had been jerked out from under him and he had been flipped into mid-air, left to fall where he would. They, the Council, the ever bloody Council was going to take Obi-Wan away. He blinked his eyes hard and locked down his presence in the Force; he'd eat glass before he would let Mace Windu see him hurting.

Shock and the beginnings of pure fury echoed down his bond with Padmé. She had a white-knuckle grip on her mug of sweetbark tea and Anakin reminded himself to never, ever get that woman this mad. Angel though she may be, she now had the look of one about to whip out a sword and start lopping heads.

"And when the Council authorized 'by all means' were they cognizant of the fact that Jedi Kenobi is considered a citizen of Naboo and a Councilor to the crown?" The young queen's tone was as smooth as glass, but her presence in the Force gave the suggestion that she might spit lightning bolts.

The Jedi Master nodded serenely. "It was mentioned, yes. However, he is still a Jedi, as yet unassigned by the Council to any particular mission."

"While many Jedi undertake self-directed missions, it is always at the discretion of the Council." Obi-Wan supplied. "If they had wanted me back on Coruscant, I would already be back on Coruscant. The Council is not known for taking 'no' for an answer. By having Master Windu come here and bring me back, they are reminding me that I am here at their sufferance."

"But will they let you come back?" Anakin was proud that he managed to keep his voice steady even if the tight knot in his chest tried to choke him. Part of him wanted to hear a reassuring lie, to have Obi-Wan tell him that of course he would be back, no matter what. Nevertheless, if the Council could take away Qui-Gon – akin to taking away the sky in Anakin's opinion – who or what else could they rip out of his life? 

"I don't know, Anakin. But I will do my best to get back to you and Padmé." Obi-Wan seemed to sense what he was feeling and enveloped him in a hug. "Besides, I must teach you not to curse like a spice runner if it's the last thing I do."

What Anakin was about to say next was interrupted by a soft, insistent tone from his datapad. Obi-Wan let him go as Anakin retrieved it from his belt pouch and activating it, nodded at the message with satisfaction and relief. Padmé regarded him with an upraised eyebrow and he returned her look with a steady gaze.

"I made some changes to my class schedules." He said as Padmé held out her hand for the data pad. "They've been approved."

He passed it over and her other eyebrow rose to join its twin as she read the information there. "You've pushed back all your classes other than your citizenship courses and your training at the Academy." 

Anakin matched her neutral tone exactly. "That's right."

"May I ask why?" Padmé kept her voice smooth, but he could feel her hurt at being kept out of the decision.

"Padmé, as long as I stay on Naboo -and I want to stay forever! - I'm protected by the rights that Naboo gives everyone. But I can never leave Naboo. If I ever left, or was taken, I could be deported – like the Jedi wanted – or stuck into a military school or an orphanage." Anakin worked hard to keep his emotions out of his voice. "The only way I have any rights other than as a refugee is to become a citizen of Naboo, which I can do at ten."

"And you did not see fit to tell either of us?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.

''Since I did this in between time that I left the garden and the time I left my room to come here, I had no chance." Anakin replied in kind. "Besides, I didn't feel like arguing about it."

"Argue?" The tilt of Padmé's head, the way she regarded Anakin with a sharp gaze made Anakin feel like a hapless finny being eyed by a spear-fisher bird. 

Anakin sighed. "Let me say that another way I argue but you win."

~

It was the finest wrestling match that Mace Windu had the pleasure to observe in a long time.

While Obi-Wan should be teaching the boy tact and diplomacy, he doubted that the rough-and-tumble being that was Anakin Skywalker would ever have much use for them. As Mace Windu watched, the boy almost seemed to become like the primordial rock of this world – dense and immovable. 

The girl-queen, superbly skilled for her or any age, brought all her will to bear on the stubborn boy. She was a glacier bearing down on the rock. Irresistible force met immovable object. The Jedi Master felt privileged to see it happen.

Obi-Wan had occasional input, but seemed to be prodding the pair to hash things through on their own. Whether the new knight admitted it or not, Obi-Wan had two padawans. Either one would have been a busy handful for even the most sanguine of masters, much less a man with less than a quarter of a year from his knighting. However, his light touches directed the conflict and kept it focused.

Anakin was a creature of the Living Force – as attuned to the moment as any young animal might be. Obi-Wan had divulged a great deal in their time together. Prankish, mercurial, ardent, outspoken and deeply loyal, Anakin would require careful handling. If Mace had to pick a master for the boy, it would be a hard call - perhaps the Dark Woman, perhaps himself. 

Qui-Gon the point was moot. 

However Mace felt, Master Sifo-Dyas had been adamant. The Jedi master was no longer on the Council – he had felt that he needed an extended sabbatical some two decades ago and had not taken his seat upon his return. It had been Sifo-Dyas' idea that Qui-Gon required an extensive retreat and meditation. The Council had agreed and charged him to guide the maverick master into greater accord with the Unifying Force.

The young Queen – at first glance – appeared to be the calmer, more stable at the pair, but first impressions were deceiving. Padmé Amidala was as passionate in her way as Anakin was in his. Diplomatic training had taught her to assume an aloof mask, a deliberate and regal mien. From her acts on the Senate floor and her return to a world under siege, Mace knew she could be impulsive – but her first concern was for others. Her intense dislike of authority was not obvious, perhaps not even to her. 

Perhaps Obi-Wan was the best master for both younglings. His training with Qui-Gon taught him something of the Living Force, even if his strengths lay in the Unifying Force.

Finally, the glacier and the rock came to an understanding. Each gave just enough, shaped by the experience instead of ground down or shattered by it. Each shaped by the meeting. 

Breakfast was resumed.

~

The conversation turned to lighter subjects, much to Obi-Wan's relief. The thought of his bond to Qui-Gon being severed added weight to his shoulders and colored his thoughts with worry. He was torn by his duty to his students and his obligation to his master. Padmé and Anakin were just beginning to stabilize after ordeals that would have shattered most adults. Anakin finally trusted him, Padmé was no longer a jagged mass of emotion hidden behind a mask and swathed in silk. The other learners who came with them – the handmaidens, the pages, and others - all looked to him for peace and stability. 

How could he leave them? 

How could he not leave them? 

Qui-Gon was his father figure, his mentor and friend. As much as they had their differences, Obi-Wan loved him. The communication that he achieved with deep meditation had strengthened and what he knew distressed him deeply. All the same, Qui-Gon was adamant that Obi-Wan remain on Naboo.

::: You are already on the wrong side of the Council's pleasure, my son.::: His master told him. ::: They tell me nothing, but I have gleaned that much. Protect the younglings and yourself, and allow them to protect you. ::: 

From his master's own mind, he could feel a steady deterioration of self. Master Sifo-Dyas had charge of Qui-Gon's care and kept him in a windowless room in the largely empty east tower. His healers came only once a week, and then did not speak to him, only did their work and left. The rest of the time, he was seen to by menial dumbots that brought his meals and clothing, or by voiceless EmDee units maintaining his medicines and medlinks. Other than Sifo-Dyas, only Council members came to see him, and then it was never without the tall ascetic master at their sides.

Whatever Sifo-Dyas was doing, Obi-Wan could feel it turning his master into someone else. It was as if the only part remaining of the man Qui-Gon Jinn had been before the Naboo mission was the bond that he shared with Obi-Wan. 

Anakin was steadily packing his breakfast into whatever internal space warp he stored that much food, seemingly intent on nothing but his plate. The boy's presence in the Force was 'pulled in' and if Obi-Wan had been looking for him, he would have had a hard time of it. Padmé was studying the morning's communiqués quite intently while conversing with Master Windu about the state of the Senate.

Obi-Wan usually communicated with Qui-Gon in the hour following breakfast, when Padmé was getting ready for Court, and Anakin was turning in his completed schoolwork. Now the approach of that hour seemed to stretch interminably. Anakin was the first to excuse himself, he was in attendance at morning and evening Courts and took his classes in the afternoon. Padmé left when Sabé poked her head in the door. Master Windu was absorbed in a report from Coruscant concerning a group of Corellian Jedi who had broken a piracy ring.

Taking his chance, he mumbled something about getting dressed for Court and took his leave at the absent nod from his superior. 

It took all his control and training to keep himself from running back to his quarters. He and Anakin had been relocated to a level immediately below the family wing where the rooms were just as large, with the same view of the falls, but a great deal less luxuriously appointed. His room adjoined Anakin's, which was linked in turn to another secret passage that came out behind a waterwall in the Queen's solar. 

The stripe-grained spicewood and warm brown glazed tile was restful to the eye, the furnishings were comfortably upholstered in a soft brushed cloth or cloned leather. Obi-Wan laid on the bed, closed his eyes and brought his concentration to bear.

He was aware of everything. The smell of freshly laundered bedding and furniture polish. The sound and vibration of the falls. The feel of the bed under him and the breeze from the windows. Molecules of water danced in the air with particles of his own shin, shed simply by the impact of air on his cheek. Atoms moved within those bits of skin and even smaller particles moved within the atoms. Those same particles were spread throughout the throughout the universe, in everything from the largest galaxies with untold quadrillions of stars to the smallest cell of a dust mite trundling through its universe of the carpet on the floor.

Only when one understood the grandeur of even the smallest dust mite could one understand the Force. Even that tiny insect with a life span measured in hours had its genesis in the death of the mightiest of stars that had shone for billions of years. The bonds of life to life to even more life were almost overwhelming to Obi-Wan; this was his master's strength, not his. 

Instead, he reached for the bonds he had chosen.

Anakin, full of jolts and jounces as he was of loyalty and dedication. His anger matched by his compassion, his strength in the Force by his concern for his family of outcasts and oddlings. The hurts were healing, but still tender, and the darkness of spirit yet present, but driven back. 

Padmé, healing from the horrors she had seen even as she healed her world, the young woman was growing stronger in her use of the Force. She would go down in history as a great queen simply based on her first two years in office, but Obi-Wan felt something even greater in store for her. 

Finally, he came to the bond he shared with Qui-Gon. He imagined it being made strand by strand, thickened and strengthened by years together as Master and Padawan. Obi-Wan was singularly unfanciful, but he imagined that the bond as a rope of spun diamond like the Renfani made. Each strand glowing with an inner fire, strong and full of beauty.

It was the early morning on Coruscant, the Senatorial sector still in dark phase. The sky was never entirely dark, the constant traffic and lights from enormous buildings left the sky a rather muted, starless purple. The Temple would be dimly lit, only the more nocturnal of the Jedi stirring about. Even now, he could feel Qui-Gon sleeping the sleep of the injured – that healing sleep whereby the body found the energy to make repairs. 

Mentally, Obi-Wan frowned. If Healers were supposed to be seeing his master, then why was he in pain? He knew the extent of Qui-Gon's injuries, and that even with a Healer at hand they would take time to put right. Yet, here was pain left unattended to sap the body of rest and strength. Why?

The deeper Obi-Wan looked, the more alarmed he grew. The passing months had brought healing to the worst of the injuries, but it was almost as if someone had deliberately made them to heal wrongly, leaving Qui-Gon debilitated and in pain. 

::: Eh? Obi-Wan? What's wrong, lad? ::: 

Though sleep muzzed, there was nothing wrong with his master's mind. Obi-Wan sent his findings and was rocked to the core by his master's reply.

::: Yes, I expected as much. Though, to give the Council the benefit of the doubt, I do not think that they had any idea Sifo-Dyas would go so far. :::

::: Why? Why would he do this, Master? He's harming you deliberately and if he were to sever our bond while you are this weak it might well kill you! :::

::: Sever? Where did this come from? :::

::: Master Windu is here, he arrived this morning and ::: Obi-Wan held nothing back, telling Qui-Gon everything that had transpired from the moment he had sensed the other Jedi. ::: and he was ordered to bring me back for the Convocation upon his return. :::

::: The Convocation? That would explain it; there are enough Jedi expressing dissatisfaction with the direction of the Order that the Council wants to parade me about as a reformed and penitent gadfly. Sifo-Dyas has been an ideologue and an absolutist for as long as I have known him. The Councilors of the past have pared ever closer to the bare bone of the code, while discarding the meat and blood that made it live. ::: Sadness washed through Qui-Gon's thoughts. ::: We have lost our compassion, we Jedi. We are marionettes for the politicians, no longer warriors for the spirit or protectors of the people. How can we protect what we have been taught is of no import? :::

Obi-Wan's heart tightened in his chest. How often had he derided those beings as 'pathetic life forms' and side issues? He had seen what that attitude engendered in Anakin and dealt with the aftermath that his own arrogance had caused. The people perceived rudeness, arrogance, disdain – and reacted to it. Even the people of Naboo – once the Council's actions became known – had drawn a line between 'those Jedi' meaning the Council and 'our Jedi' meaning Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. 

::: Master, I'm sorry! I did all of that, but I know now that there can be no Unifying Force without the Living Force. I failed you, not for the first time, and I am ashamed ::: Obi-Wan let the thought trail off, feeling every misstep as if it had just occurred.

::: My beloved son. ::: Qui-Gon's thoughts were filled with love, joy, and even pride. ::: You have never once failed me. You made mistakes, yes, but to make mistakes, you must live and experience the universe around you. Those who never take the risk of making an error are alive, but they never truly live or develop compassion for those 'pathetic life forms' who do. You have passed the greatest and last trial that you needed to overcome. You are a Jedi Knight in truth, Obi-Wan, not just in name. I am so proud for you! :::

::: I am? You are? ::: Obi-Wan was dumbfounded, but felt a lightness of being, a surety that he had lacked before. Not overconfidence, he thought as he felt his way around his own head, he would still make mistakes, but with the grace of the Force, they would not be so bad. 

::: Do you still have your padawan braid? :::

::: I never removed it. I was waiting :::

::: In the ancient days of the order, a master was simply present when a padawan was raised. A padawan would remove his own braid as a way of affirming his readiness for knighthood, ::: Qui-Gon reminded him ::: I am present. :::

::: I don't know if I can maintain rapport while I do this. ::: 

Obi-Wan forced one eye open and had the sudden disorienting sensation of being in many places at once. His fingers moved to the pouch on his belt that contained his multitool and it felt as if he was stretching between his own bed and a small room on Coruscant. Fumbling at the tool's options, he managed to pull out a short razorblade. Another dip into the pouch turned up a small clip that he attached to the part of the braid closest to his own head. 

As he brought the blade up and aligned it to make the cut, he had the disconcerting thought that he might well slice his own fool neck by mistake.

::: Thus making this the shortest knighthood in history. ::: Qui-Gon commented and Obi-Wan could almost hear him laughing. 

::: Master, no! I'd become one of Yaddle's history lessons! I can hear it now - "Missed he did. A dimwit he was." :::

The humor steadied him, though it was an effort to maintain the rapport and cut at the same time. Obi-Wan felt each hair as the blade snicked through it, then carefully coiled and stowed the braid. 

::: You will braid that into the hair of your padawans, Obi-Wan, ::: Qui-Gon spoke with certainty. ::: And don't tell me that you are simply minding them for me, because you are their master in truth. You are the future of the Order, my son, and I know that you will do well. As for me, whatever happens, happens. Even if Sifo-Dyas severs our training bond, nothing can ever sever my love and respect for you. :::

~

He was late. 

Obi-Wan was never late. 

Anakin would wager that Obi-Wan was even born on time, exactly nine months from the moment of his conception.

The Queen's Gallery led into the Hall of the Queens in the Great Palace, the alabaster glowed with the ascending sun. The deep jewel-toned blue of the occupant's clothing made the arches and lender pillars of translucent stone appear even more ethereal. 

Padmé still wore the dress from the breakfast meeting, but now with two more layers of silk underdresses in aquamarine and a deep sapphire. Her hair was swept up into a fountain and fall of curls threaded through with citrines and pearls. Whether she was Padmé or Amidala, she never failed to stun Anakin with her beauty.

Anakin fidgeted in his own page's costume, glancing down the hallway as Padmé, Eritaé, and Yané got into their places for the procession. 

"Should I go find him?" he whispered. 

Padmé's eyes were worried even as her face settled into her Amidala mode. 

The sound of quick footsteps sounded in the hall and Obi-Wan rounded the corner at speed.

"No need for the search party, here I am." He took his position as the chimes calling the Court loosed their delicate music into the morning air. 

Anakin stared intently at Obi-Wan. Something was different. 

At breakfast, Obi-Wan had been tense, worried, and unhappy and who could blame him? Now he was light. There was a sense of peace, and a joyful serenity that flowed from him like sunshine though the windows of the gallery. 

The doors into the Hall opened and the procession moved forward. Captain Panaka was first, acting as guard and herald. More guards stood on the mezzanine or were salted discreetly through the crowd. As Panaka spoke the ritual words of greeting, Padmé and her attendants stepped into the aisle, each handmaiden three steps behind and to either side. The courtiers bowed deeply as the trio passed, followed by shorter bows in turn for Obi-Wan and Governor Bibble. Anakin and Cimmiré, acting pages, brought up the rear. 

At the foot of the Queen's Dais, Panaka stopped, and pivoted on one heel. Facing the assemblage with a hand on his weapon, he held his stance until the Queen and her small entourage were safely on the Dais.

All the while, Anakin was studying the crowd out of the corner of his eyes. Carefully, he looked for new faces, measured intent, or the tell-tale blankness of expression that was even more obvious than a murderous glare. 

Nothing.He made a quick gesture with his forefinger pointing down. Panaka nodded his head a scant centimeter in acknowledgement as Anakin and Cimmiré climbed the steps and took their seats on the riser of the throne. 

"All who have petitions to lay before the Court, advance and be recognized." The crowd shifted and the morning's business was begun.

Panaka would take the petition from the being presenting it and read the small precis aloud. The Queen would then indicate that she would or would not hear the petition. If she chose to hear it, either Anakin or Cimmiré would descend to take the petition to the Queen. The petitioner would then present his case, and the entire Court was free to comment. She would either then grant, deny, or refer the petition elsewhere.

If she made the rare decision not to hear it, Panaka would either hand it back to the petitioner or have the pages convey it to the appropriate official. 

As the morning went on, Anakin alternated between listening to the matters at hand and studying Obi-Wan. Certainly Master Windu, - standing in the alcove between the statues of Queen Orinaé and Valincé - seemed to be keeping a close eye on him as well.

The crowd swirled again and this time a tall man clad in the blue armor and headdress of a Senatorial Guard marched to the fore. Removing his red-crested helmet, he tucked it precisely under his left arm and gave an equally precise bow.

"Honor to Naboo and honor to Queen Amidala." The man was as hard as something carved from granite, his dark hair was shorn short enough to allow his scalp to show through and an old deep scar lanced from his jawline up through his eyebrow. "The Chancellor-Elect sends me to convey his good wishes to Queen Amidala and her honored court, and to request their presence at his Inaugural to be held on the fourth week of this month, Coruscant calendar."

The thought popped into his head at the same time that he felt it occur to Padmé and Obi-Wan. The Convocation of the Jedi was the same week. 

Before Obi-Wan could so much as get a word in edgewise, Padmé was speaking in her Amidala voice and smiling at the guard. "Honor to you, Guard Captain, from all of Naboo. Convey our acceptance and with it our good wishes until we should see him on the auspicious day."

The Guard saluted smartly, replaced his helmet, and marched from the Hall.

In the stir created by the Guard Captain's departure, Obi-Wan bent in to speak to Padmé.

That's when Anakin finally saw it. 

Obi-Wan had cut his braid.

::: Padmé, look! :::

She was so astonished that she actually lifted her finger to trace the spot where the braid once fell over his shoulder. 

Obi-Wan's voice sounded in Anakin's head. ::: Yes. Qui-Gon felt that it was time. There is more to it, but that will have to wait until tonight, my young Padawans. :::

For a moment, the thrill and happiness of being called 'Padawan' nearly levitated him to the ceiling. He was going to be a Jedi after all. 

_Padawans. Two. Me _and_ Padmé._ Anakin was certain that his feet left the floor for a heartbeat or two.

~

If anyone wondered why Queen, page and Councilor were glowing like the alabaster panes of the windows, they forbore to mention it. In the alcove, Mace Windu allowed himself a slight smile. 

~


	9. Some Other Future's Past 9

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter Nine

~

"Tomorrow's a rest day. Founder's Week is right after, and Admittance Day is right after the next rest day. Even the Queen gets some time off. Thanks be! " Padmé slipped the last of the classified documents into the carbon-fiber envelopes and stowed the stack in her office safe. It was full dark outside and chilly enough that she had turned on the heater in deference to Anakin's dislike of the cold. "All I have to do is make a half-dozen speeches and attend two state dinners."

Only two pools of light illuminated the office; one from a task lamp over the fine wooden desk, the other from a floor lamp in a small conversation corner with a settee and a pair of overstuffed chairs. Normally, the office would be filled with bustle and predinner chatter. However, tonight most of her handmaidens were already off to spend time with the families they so rarely able to see. Rabé and Eritaé remained at he palace in case they were needed, though.

Anakin grunted from his position on the long settee. "No rest for me. I'm going with you to Coruscant even if it means I pass the exams five minutes before we lift."

He worked with a datapad, running test preparation programs. The citizenship exams were not terribly difficult, but they were meant to be taken after years of schooling, not mere months. Even with Anakin's memory and aptitude, this would be an exam cram on an ambitious scale.

Padmé stretched until her spine gave a satisfying crackle and then she flopped into a chair across from Ani. After Evening Court, everyone had scattered, so she and Ani had taken a light supper in the office while slogging through their separate tasks.

"Tired, Angel?" Anakin turned of the datapad and rolled onto his side, facing her.

"About as much as you, Demon." 

In response Anakin crossed his eyes at her and named every Queen of the Medgian line.

"You know, I actually think that you can pass the exams, and I also think you'll have a better margin than five minutes, Ani." Padmé was impressed. The Medigan line was one of the longer and more notorious dynasties in Naboo's history, spawning such notables as Eriamé of a Million Enemies, Luciré the Poisoner, and Attiné the Merry (times five) Widow.

To their credit, they had taken good care of the people, but the entire family seemed to have had a predilection for killing each other off. The line had come to an abrupt end when Otarin the Mad blew himself to bits while trying to assassinate his fifth cousin by marriage, Kianaé the Unruly. This act of bad planning paving the way for the Succession Wars and the benignly neglectful rule of the Urindi line who – all things considered – rather would have stayed home and kept designing plants.

"Your history is fascinating stuff. My passing the exams is only going to happen because your ancestors all seem to have been either bloody minded or completely off their mountings." Ani ducked the pillow she threw at him. "See? You must be tired - your aim is off. You're usually a pretty good shot for a pacifist."

When Obi-Wan came in, she had Anakin curled into a helpless ball on the carpet as she gleefully and ruthlessly exploited every tickle spot she knew about.

~

Obi-Wan watched the pair at play while he thought that in a handful of years, Padmé might have occasion to regret this incident. Anakin tended to keep score and if the boy's appetite was any indication, her 'little Ani' was not going to be little for very long. 

He hated to disturb them; both of them together had not had as much of a childhood as he had. 

Clearing his throat did not work, and Obi-Wan finally resorted to a piercing whistle most often used in hailing an aircab. The last time he had gotten in the middle of one of the infrequent tickle wars, the results had been undignified.

When the laughter had died down to soft hiccups from Anakin and the occasional stray giggle from Padmé, he rounded the couch and settled into a chair. The young ones were relaxed, and that would make tonight's task all the easier. From the portions of the Archives he had been able to access, Obi-Wan had determined the technique for identifying different types of bonds. If there were any placed with malign intent, removing them might be painful.

Padmé caught his mood more ably than Anakin did, but the boy was so tightly attuned to her that the change in attitude was instantaneous. The pair quieted and hoisted themselves onto the couch, waiting for him to speak.

"The records I had access to are very old, and were written in a time where this type of thing must have been common." Obi-Wan spoke quietly. He had to be sure of himself because if he wasn't, and either one of his padawans picked up on it, and resisted, the damage could be enormous. "If I find an imposed bond, I will need to remove it immediately. You might feel ill, or extremes of hot and cold, you might even feel pain. Whatever I need you to keep in mind that it must be excised, that such a thing endangers not only you but all that you both love."

"Could this hurt you?" Anakin whispered. 

"It's possible. Sometimes a suggestion is implanted, sometimes a 'packet' of power is opened and used in defense." The histories said that even non-Force sensitives had been used in that way - the hapless victim turned into an uncontrollable destructive device. "I believe that I can defend against anything like it, though."

Anakin and Padmé eyes with each other. 

"We already settled this, Pad." Anakin settled back into the cushions of the couch with an air of one holding the high ground.

"Rock-Cloth-Blade." Padmé sniffed and crossed her arms. "Silly way to settle things."

"It's just as valid as talking your opposition to death." Anakin retorted, then grinned. "Besides, you're just sore that I beat you two out of three. It's not my fault you lead with your shoulder every time you throw 'Rock.'"

Padmé looked disgusted. "I always used to win against Sola, but that's not the point. I'm older, I should go first."

Obi-Wan stared at Anakin. "Rock-Cloth-Blade? You settled this with a child's game? Why not Eenie-Meenie-Miney-Moe-Catch-a-Wookie-by-the-Toe?"

"Anyone who can count to two knows how to rig that one, Obi-Wan." Anakin looked around the room. "Should we do this here?"

"Next to my chambers, this is the safest place in the palace." The Queen's working offices and private chambers were proof against all forms of espionage devices. "We're not likely to be interrupted. Most of the staff has gone home for the holidays."

"All right then. Anakin, are you sure that you want to go first?" Obi-Wan could feel the boy's internal jittering and apprehension. Anakin's glance at Padmé changed that jittering to determination, even if the apprehension remained in place. 

"What do you need me to do, Master?"

"Do you remember the trances I showed you?" Obi-Wan asked. At Anakin's nod, he continued. "I want you to go to the point where you are still aware of your surroundings, but feel slightly disconnected from your body. Padmé, if you would take that chair over there? I need to focus very carefully."

Padmé kissed her friend on the forehead, went to the chair, and folded herself up in it while Anakin arranged himself on the couch. 

It took very little prompting to get Anakin into the desired level of trance. 

::: Ready, Anakin? :::

The boy's response was more a feeling of agreement and relaxed preparedness than an actual thought.

Giving Padmé a look that he hoped was reassuring, Obi-Wan entered his own meditative state and turned his attention to his youngest padawan. Anakin greeted him, again without words, just feelings. 

Sending thoughts of support and encouragement, Obi-Wan eased the lad slightly deeper into trance. If he did find something, Anakin would most assuredly fight back. Even untrained, the boy was strong enough to cause a lot of damage to both the palace and its occupants. The farther 'up' he had to come to do that damage, the more time Obi-Wan had to defuse the hypothetical situation. 

Gently, Obi-Wan began to do what Anakin referred to as 'walking around in someone's head.' Generalized emotions and state of mind were there for him to see, all tinted with Anakin's changeabout personality. The bonds Anakin maintained were bewildering in number and variety, so Obi-Wan started with the strongest and most obvious. It did not lead to whom he expected - Anakin's strongest bond was with Padmé and it was reciprocal. Obi-Wan wished again for access to the part of the Archives that would deal with this, as it was he'd had to slice his way in past codebots and sentinel files placed to lure the unauthorized.

Moving on, he found the bond that led back to himself, pleased to feel how much stronger it had grown in just a few short months. It was a true Master-Padawan bond and the Jedi was a little surprised at his own emotions of care and protectiveness for this young life. 

Slowly Obi-Wan began to test each bond in turn. The bonds to his mother, the handmaidens, his friends left behind on Tattooine, Captains Panaka and Olié, and a plethora of others were all normal and healthy. He was mildly surprised that one bond led to Qui-Gon, but it had been the elder Jedi who had charge of Anakin during their bounce around the galaxy. 

Finally, just as Obi-Wan was thinking he would not find anything, he came to a thin, almost unnoticeable bond. It seemed to be latent, with no activity at all from either direction. There was no flavor of personality in it, nothing at all to tell Obi-Wan who – or what - might be at the other end. 

Following the nearly imperceptible thread, Obi-Wan hoped to get some idea of where this had come from only to meet with nothing.

There was nothing at the end of this bond. 

But it was a very peculiar nothing. The originator of the bond had not been Anakin. It had nothing of his personality in it. The originator of the bond was not dead, otherwise the bond would slowly decay. There was just a big, blank nothing.

Reaching for the bond, Obi-Wan was surprised when it seemed to evade his mental 'grip' and slink even more into its camouflage. It seemed to be active now, and from it he sensed a slyness, an innate malice and nastiness that made him long to wipe his hands.

That told the Jedi all that he needed to know.

Obi-Wan bent his will on the bond, both holding it fast and squeezing it. Fully active now, the phantom at the other end began to fight back, first by attacking the Jedi. His skin tried to crawl, his hair to stand on end and his gut surged in warning. It sent images into his mind, of Qui-Gon dying by inches, of Anakin reduced to a gory vacuum-exposed corpse, of the Temple made a smoking hole scented with the smell of burnt bodies.

As the Archive texts instructed, Obi-Wan ignored this. To engage was to find this kind of bond attached to one's self.

The phantom changed tactics and instead attacked Anakin. Deep in his trance state the boy began to stir as disturbing feelings and images reached him. Obi-Wan increased his efforts, bringing his full strength to bear on the bond as false messages of pain began to flood Anakin's nervous system. The boy's leg kicked, his hand gripped the front of Obi-Wan's tunic hard enough for his fingernails to tear the fabric as he fought his way out of trance. 

The bond stretched, thinned, and then snapped like a towline for a heavy cruiser. Hard enough to make light and pain bloom behind Obi-Wan's closed eyes. Anakin's scream of agony aborted into a gagging retch and trailed off into moans. Obi-Wan dragged his eyes open, squinting against even the dim light just as Anakin deposited his dinner into the potted plant next to the couch. 

Obi-Wan pulled a throw from the back of the couch and wrapped the boy in it. Anakin was too exhausted to talk, the pain had been real enough, but no mark was on him.

"Thought I was dying. Burning up. Hurts." Tears trickled from under closed eyelids as he whispered. "Did you get it, Obi-Wan?"

"I did." He stroked the sweat-soaked blond hair. "Somewhere a Sith has a blasting headache."

His padawan's mumbled response trailed off into the breathing of sleep. Obi-Wan lifted the sleeping child and settled him into one of the deep chairs, then turned to Padmé. 

White-faced and trembling, she backed away from him. "S-something's wrong" Her spice-brown eyes seemed to grow darker, night-flooded. 

He felt the gathering of malign intent, the phantom full of fury at losing one if its prizes and determined to take it out of the Jedi's hide. Only Padmé's strength and will had been able to prevent it from blasting Obi-Wan where he stood. 

"Run run master I can't I can't nooooooo!" Padmé's wail was a whisper as the power that held her struck at it's chosen target - the unconscious body of Anakin Skywalker.

~

The night moved. 

From deepest mediation to full alert took only seconds. The Master Jedi was on his feet with saber in hand before he even knew what was happening. 

The young queen had been polite enough to offer him rooms in the Guest wing of the palace and he had accepted. He was determined to keep an eye on Obi-Wan and his padawans and it did not matter what he had to do to pull it off. The children that the young Knight had taken to teach would either be the salvation of a dying order or it's death stroke. The majority of the Council wanted the problem to go away, seeing only the possibility of doom, but Mace Windu and a few others dissented. 

When the decision had been made not to train the boy, Mace Windu had stood against it. As Obi-Wan had felt, the child's power was even more of a danger left unschooled and without restraint. Mace had left Naboo hoping that the younger man's compassion and love for his master would override his inclination to obey the Council. How gratified he had been to be right about Obi-Wan, the compassion that had been planted by Qui-Gon Jinn was now in full fruit. In time, Obi-Wan would be one of the greatest masters the Jedi had ever known. 

If he survived whatever malignancy was unfolding, that is. 

With the speed only a Jedi could command, he raced through the darkened hallways of the Queen's Palace, homing in on the battle he could sense taking place. It felt as if there should be mayhem and warfare in the halls, yet only the sound of the night wind could be heard. As he closed in on the Queen's offices, the sense of desperate struggle increased. 

The locks tumbled to his command and he went though the doors and into the office without breaking stride, only to stop in consternation at the scene before him.

Amidala stood in the center of the carpet, her aura in the Force a tumult of light and dark as she fought an evil strong enough to kill Jedi masters. The possessing entity had lashed out not at Obi-Wan, but at young Anakin who by sheer strength alone was holding his own death at bay. Sickly purple lightning flickered centimeters from his body as he stared at his fellow padawan, the effort of keeping the deadly energy contained demanding all of his resources while Obi-Wan worked feverishly at severing Amidala from that which had taken her over. 

Mace could feel the young Knight's strength waning, and stepped in. What he found made him vow to make their heads ring like Temple bells for a week. The dark power that held the queen was too strong, too old, and canny for one so inexperienced. Mace laid hold of the link and channeled the Force into a single, powerful strike.

The bond thinned, its capacity more than halved, and Obi-Wan strangled it – denying it the ability to repair itself. Mace struck again, and again, each time reducing the flow of power. Obi-Wan tightened his grip after each strike until Mace could feel Amidala join in the fight, pushing the dark away – breaking its hold by degrees. 

The lightning that had reached so greedily for Anakin now turned back on Amidala as the entity determined do destroy her. Once again, Anakin surprised him by shifting his containment and the seeking filaments stopped a breath from Amidala's terrified face.

"Now hit it now hit it now" Her plea was a whisper, her eyes clearing of the inky blackness that had filled them. "Give the p'kachnee kischslun something he won't forget."

Master, Knight, and Padawan slammed pure energy into the link in and it snapped with a sound very like a faraway howl of agony. The young woman crumpled to the carpet, her master trying to catch her and instead going down with her, there to be joined by Anakin who had enough strength to roll out of his chair and crawl to them.

Only the sound of the young woman's sobs and the loving reassurances of her master and her friend broke the quiet sighing of the night wind. 

~

Long hours later, as the first glow of coming dawn lit the tops of the hills, Mace sat in a chair by the Queen's bedside. The physical toll on both padawans had been enough to send them to bed, the psychological toll remained to be seen. 

Amidala was consumed with guilt not only for attacking Anakin, but for being 'weak' enough that such a bond was set on her in the first place. She fretted about the harm that might some from having a Sith spy in her very head, she worried that she was in some way evil, and that she had somehow allowed this to happen. 

Anakin slept on a chaise placed next to the bed; he had been vehemently opposed to being away from Amidala. When both padawans were conscious at the same time, Amidala would weep and beg forgiveness for her 'wrong.' Anakin would reply that he knew that wasn't her, so she didn't do it, so there's nothing to forgive, and that some Sith would have hell to pay when Anakin caught up with him.

It would appear that the biggest factor in Amidala's healing would be her fellow padawan. The strength of their bonding was surprising, even if Mace had read of such things, it was something else to be confronted with the reality. 

Obi-Wan, acting in his role as Queen's Councilor, had informed the appropriate offices that Queen and page had been overtaken by an unknown pathogen. EmDee droids found fever, depletion of electrolytes and evidence of a galvanic immune response. Anti-inflammatory, anti-nausea, and immune supporting medications were administered, then the EmDees left their patients with firm orders to rest and take fluids. 

Obi-Wan had been nettled to be included, going to his own bed only when he was too tired to argue with Mace any further.

Anakin stirred and shifted in his blankets, then rolled out, stumbling to the 'fresher in a fashion that declared his brain was not yet fully engaged.

Sometime later, he came out and quietly stated that he was in need of clothing. Mace replied that might be so, if he were going anywhere but back to bed, therefore a fresh sleep shirt and sleep pants would do just fine, and to lie down before he fell down. The padawan apparently grasped that good judgement was the better part of bravery and went back to the chaise as if it had been his own idea. 

The lad was dozing when Amidala awoke and made her own targeted stagger to the facilities. After a longer time, the female padawan exited the 'fresher in a cloud of steam and made much the same statement as young Skywalker had. Mace made much the same reply.

Amidala disagreed. The Jedi master held his ground and issued the ultimatum that until Obi-Wan came back from his own much needed rest, he was the boss. Amidala could choose to do this the easy way or the hard way - but however she chose, she would be doing it his way. After a short consultation with Anakin that seemed to consist of facial shifts and shrugs, Amidala evidently reached the same conclusion as he had. Retreating into the 'fresher, she returned scowling, but dressed in a pair of sleep pants and shirt. 

Anakin laughed at the sight of Queen Amidala in her fuzzy Ewok slippers until she nailed him with a pillow. 

~

The sun flowed through the window of Obi-Wan's room, illuminating the solitary figure hard at work. Carefully, he stowed the product of hours of effort in his belt pouch and stood, stretching. He had better go rescue Mace Windu from his apprentices before the Jedi master busted him back down to padawan and fled for Wild Space. 

There was much healing to be done, but Obi-Wan was not worried overmuch. Both younglings had bad shocks, but with the love and support of their 'family' they would come though fine. He was proud of them both for what they had done last night, astonished that they had been able to act on their own behalf at all. 

Studying himself in the mirror, he shook his head ruefully – he looked nothing like he thought a Jedi master should look. His hair was a little longer, but still prone to spontaneous bed head-like activity and he really did need to get started on that beard. It just seemed that every time he managed to go two or three days without depilitating, a state of affairs would arise to demand that he dispose of his nascent beard. 

Obi-Wan smiled sadly, his image of a Jedi master had always been that of his master. 

That situation would be remedied soon enough, he told himself, the smile taking on a grim glint. When he left Coruscant, he was taking Qui-Gon with him. 

The hallways of the palace were still quiet. Since it was a rest day before a major holiday, his padawans would have time to recover somewhat before the world made demands of them once more. Rabé and Saché both knew of what had happened last night and would cover for Padmé as needed. 

A chuckle escaped him as he remembered Rabé's reaction. If the Sith had the sense the Force gave a myrmin, he'd run far, fast and long before he went near the handmaiden. Though outwardly meek and quiet, she went from a standstill to 'remove vital organs' mode in the space of a full breath. The kiss she had given him nearly bruised his lips before she ran from the room to check on her mistress. 

Obi-Wan pulled at his collar, he'd put it down to her relief that Padmé and Anakin were alive and whole. He was a Jedi, after all. He didn't go about smooching with a girl just a week shy of her sixteenth birthday. 

Moving briskly though the palace, he entered the Queen's private wing. Eritaé sat guard at the gold-chased greel wood doors that led into Padmé's quarters. Just from the way that the handmaiden stood, Obi-Wan could tell that she was armed to the teeth. 

"Her Highness is awake, Master Kenobi." Eritaé studied him as she spoke, making him want to look for a soup spot on his tunic. "Please go in."

He thanked her and was bemused to see her searching look turn to an approving grin. What test had he just passed? What was going on around here that he didn't know about?

Questions about the oddities of handmaiden behavior vanished at the sight of his padawans. Curled up in their blankets on the queen's huge bed, both were pale, with dark circles shadowing their eyes. Padmé was quizzing Anakin on the Articles of Soverignity, with Master Windu looking on. The scent of timatya soup and spiced rolls still hung in the air

The rooms were a mix of the regal Amidala and young Padmé, the stuffed Wookie doll from the Midway sat in a carved Ysali fruitwood chair that was worth as much as a starship. Holoportraits of her family and friends stood among priceless Filani glass figurines. Colorful hand-pieced quilts, rustic tapestries, and a collection of stuffed animals broke the heaviness imparted by the blue-and-gold silk brocade of bedding, upholstery, and curtains. 

His padawans looked up at him, murmuring greetings, and he swept them both up in a fierce hug. Never one to let his emotions have rein, he let them both sense his pride and love for them, letting it pour from his soul. 

Disengaging, he sat back, rather surprised at his own emotional outpouring. "I have, that is.. it is traditional for Jedi Padawans to wear some mark of apprenticeship. Among those with hair or fur, the tradition is for the master to take some of his own hair and braid it with that of the chosen padawan."

Unfastening the catch on the pouch he pulled out what seemed to be two locks of hair. It had taken him hours to separate his own hair and that of Qui-Gon into equal parts and find appropriate bindings. 

"This is the braid that my master gave to me. I ask you each to wear it if you will have me as your master."

"We will," Padmé answered.

"Like there was ever a doubt," Anakin snorted.

Master Windu stood watching them, his expression inscrutable.

"Anakin, if you would give me some help here?" Obi-Wan asked.

With care and concentration, Anakin helped Obi-Wan bind the mixed auburn and dark brown hair into Padmé's curly dark hair. The Jedi could feel her self-doubt easing into joy as they wound each plait. Wrapping the base and end in silver and royal blue thread, he kissed Padmé's forehead. 

"Thank you, my Padawan. I will be worthy of the honor."

Anakin's shorter hair made it somewhat more difficult, but in the end, he had a braid identical to Padmé's and all three of them were teary eyed.

"Thank you, my Padawans. I will be worthy of the honor."

This time, it was his padawans who let their emotions loose, tumbling him in a cascade of joy and affection that could probably be heard on Coruscant.

~

Epilogue:

Meanwhile, on Coruscant:

"You're a lucky man, Chancellor. That fall might have killed a younger man." The medtech put away his scans, nodding in satisfaction at the readouts. "The concussion is stable now. You can go home as soon as you're ready. Just ring C4P, and she'll contact the Residence for you."

The bronze protocol droid bowed, but kept silent. 

"Thank you, Technician Trihsder." Palpatine inclined his head, carefully, but politely in the young man's direction.

"Most welcome, your Excellency. You've got to keep your health up if you're going to be kicking those bureaucrats back into line!"

~

Qui-Gon sat crosslegged on the thin mattress that served as his bed, basking in the joy that had come to him in a dark moment. His son, his Obi-Wan and his two padawans let their elation spin unrestrained into the universe. It surged down the bond and pushed out the thoughts that crowded his existence with circling shadows. 

And with it came a promise.

_We are coming._

~

To all appearances, Master Sifo-Dyas was deep in meditation. The flowers of the night gardens bloomed, filling the air with exotic perfume and water murmured soothingly over rocks in a fountain. Moon-moths fluttered from flower to flower, shedding falls of pollen and shimmering stardust.

In truth, Sifo-Dyas – who thought of himself as Darth Devastuus - was in a rage that could have leveled the garden and reduced every living thing in it to ash. It wasn't that the repulsive fish-head of a Healer refused to sever Qui-Gon's bond and reported his urgings to do so to her superiors. Not even that the clueless Council of idiots had questioned him as to his progress in reforming the maverick Jedi, and that yoda especially had questioned him about his methods could bother him that much. 

But Sidious, that betraying, cowardly, dishonorable, wretched

Since his return from his 'sabbatical' there had been no way to touch him. From a minor functionary in the Senate, he had risen a the position of influence and then to the power of high office. Devastuus had to hand it to the backstabbing twerp; Sidious hadn't yet put himself in a position where he could give his former apprentice his comeuppance. 

Say, peeling his hide off in finger-length strips? 

The thought was soothing and Devastuus concentrated in that for some time. 

He supposed that it didn't really matter that Obi-Wan knew there was another Sith about. They would look for one and miss the other, all Devastuus had to do was to be sure that the green newling Knight looked in the right direction.

The Sith were patient, and as Sifo-Dyas had been Sith-sworn since he was taken as a padawan by another Sith master, he could be very patient indeed.

The tall, lean man stood, his smile giving his face the look of a grinning death's-head before going back into the warmth and light of the Temple.

~

(NOT) THE END

~

No, dear readers, this is not the end, but simply an interlude. Our heroes still have a great deal to do...


	10. Some Other Future's Past: A Tattooine In...

Thanks to all for the feedback. I'm really flattered that you like the tale so much. This is a little interlude before the next full chapter. I hope that you will enjoy. ;)

~

Some Other Future's Past

A Tattooine Interlude

~

Spring was coming, such as it was on Tattooine. 

Shmi Skywalker guided the Incom S10 Skyhopper onto the small pad in back of Watto's shop. The winter had brought changes that just scant months ago, she never would have believed possible. 

Watto had given up gambling, that was miracle enough, but the other changes

The shop was still plugging along, but her specialty in coding had brought in more money than all the sales combined. While still a slave, she had more freedom that she could remember since her long-ago childhood. Watto had taken the small suite of rooms adjoining the shop – long used as storage - and renovated them. The new quarters were large; two bedrooms, a kitchen with eating area separate from the main room, and her very own work area. 

One bedroom was Ani's. Every sense she had told her that she would see her son again, so she moved all of his things into it. 

Watto's extravagance did not stop there. Any manual or new codex she asked for was quick to appear, new equipment – once argued over with deep acrimony – materialized as soon as the new trade journals reached the shop. Even her 'Hopper, her license to fly it and the upkeep came at her owner's insistence. He claimed that it was cheaper to have her fly to her clients than to hire a captain to take her. 

Popping the canopy, she was greeted by Threepio, who came bustling out in a cloud of chatter and pushing a gravsled to take her equipment. A small smile lifted her lips, at times she was certain that the reason Threepio had been in pieces on a scrap heap was that someone had shot him just to get some peace and quiet. 

"Thank you, Threepio." 

"You are most welcome, Mistress Shmi! Master Watto asked that I tell you there is a new set of Nordicon codices for you in your office, and that the Captain Gurrauura requires your expertise in debugging his new navigation programs. " From there, the droid went into the vagaries of dealing with Wookies and the various dialects of Wookie-speak that made translation such a risky proposition.

Shmi tuned him out after some polite nodding and he trundled off, still declaiming to the heating air as he took her gear to her quarters. 

~ 

Jango Fett watched from the shadows of the shop as the woman walked across the pad and down a staircase that led to her quarters.

"So, you gonna take da job, or not?" 

Jango Fett considered. In all his time as a bounty hunter, he had never had one like it. He had to admit that on the face of it, it was a good deal. Not many of his guild would take on such an assignment. It was too nebulous, not to mention the fact that it required something that most bounty hunters found to be a handicap. 

Honor.

"Why not just have me remove the people who are threatening you? That way you keep your life and your slave." Not that the Toyardian had spared any expense in beefing up security on his property. Jango knew that he had five high-powered lasers trained on him from the moment he had come in. 

"I dunno who's who. I got a buncha Republic busies mincin' around like they're afraid of steppin' in somethin'." The creature's wings beat in agitation as he counted the factions. "I got iffy characters offerin' to buy her. I got some roof hoppin' refugee from a screechie watchin' the shop. I gotta bad feelin' 'bout all dis."

It was not much money, but it wasn't much of a job. However, it did allow him some flexibility that would permit him to tend to an approaching long-term commitment. Even if the whole thing was a botch, he would end up with a net profit.

The junk dealer was studying him, trying to read some hint of the man behind the visor of the Mandalorian armor.

"I'll take the job, but understand me – I have other priorities."

~


	11. Some Other Future's Past 10

Welcome, readers! Here we begin the second part of Some Other Future's Past, picking up a few weeks after Obi-Wan formally accepted Padmé and Anakin as his padawans. 

A small cast of characters hitching a ride to Coruscant, where Padmé and her court will attend the Inauguration of Chancellor-Elect Palpatine, has joined the group. Master Windu and Obi-Wan have an event to attend, as well – the Convocation of the Jedi, which occurs only every half-century. 

I hope that you all enjoy this rahter long bit. J 

~

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter 10

~

Obi-Wan, datapad in hand, settled into the soft cushions of the couch. The subtle vibration of the engines was soothing, as were the rich blues and soft peach colors of the main lounge. 

The royal cruiser – recently refitted at the Corellian Drive Yards – was en route to Coruscant, bringing Queen Amidala and entourage to the inauguration festivities heralding Mero Palpatine's assumption of the chancellor's office. The Queen, her handmaidens, four pages, and a dozen guards made a boisterous bunch in the lounge. That was without the presence of their other guests - the Corellian ambassador to Naboo, Garm Bel Iblis, his aide, as well as five Jedi Knights with three padawans between them, and Master Windu.

Well, the boisterous crowd was less two. 

Padmé had begged off, pleading hours of work and correspondence to be completed before the next jump point. Ships of different masses and engine ratings used different paths into or out of the Core and Inner Rim. At each coordinate, there was a navigation beacon, a remote traffic log, and a communications node, with traffic control stations at the busier points. Padmé wanted to batch-send a load of traffic via regular channels and some encoded diplomatic communiqués over the secured links.

Anakin was so deeply asleep that a marching band could parade by and his young padawan would not stir. The boy had passed his citizenship exams and two days before departure and has spent the next day flying from bureau to department getting his documents in order. Packing and helping pages Cimmiré, Merol, and Kadran get ready to leave had taken most of the night. By the time Anakin made the landing field, he looked about to fall over, and was actually asleep even before then repulsors came on line and boosted them out of Naboo's gravity.

The reason for the boisterous behavior was a rousing game that pitted one's intellectual flexibility against that of one's fellows. Puzzles, riddles and logic games that little Cimmiré passed tripped the oldest members, while the players coached less experienced members through unfamiliar concepts. Couches that formed a three-quarters circle surrounded a table piled with snacks, and most of the passengers sat or lay among the cushions, though a couple sprawled on the floor. 

"So how do you get the bantha into closet?"

"You have take the buffalump out first!"

Sometimes children were the most logical of creatures. 

One of the Jedi detached herself from the group and came to sit by Obi-Wan. Copper-skinned Jana Khurchan was a Jedi Obi-Wan's age, the youngest of the dozen various Jedi who had appeared on Naboo over the past month. It seemed as if Mace Windu's presence had been some sort of signal. 

Amidala accepted their presence, and welcomed them. The people of Naboo had at first simply gritted their teeth and followed their monarch's lead; the behavior of the Council had engendered hard feelings in the charitable and hospitable folk. 

Following them came Jedi that Obi-Wan knew only by name, not Temple Jedi, or those attached to the diplomatic corps, but those who took their missions in the far reaches of Republic space and sometimes beyond it. They came in by dribbles over the next three weeks, the last of them arriving just in time to hitch rides to the Convocation. 

They seemed fascinated by the Naboo, especially the pages and handmaidens, but none escaped having a Jedi close at hand. Anakin and Padmé seemed to interest them in particular, and Obi-Wan almost as much. 

Jana sank into the cushions, her tall lean frame nearly disappearing between a pair of large pillows. Her tight-curled black hair stood out in a fuzzy aureole about her head and her robes were usually as disheveled as Obi-Wan's. 

"I hadn't really thought about it," she said, waving her hand at the assemblage. "But now that I've spent some time with the Naboo, it makes sense."

"What does?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Why there are no Jedi from Naboo."

"Not one?" Obi-Wan was surprised. The Naboo ought to be prime candidates. He had met a great many who seemed to have potential and had been mystified as to why he had never met one Nubian Jedi. 

"Self-determination. That's the key. The Naboo believe in the sovereign right of a life form to determine its own life path. They will guide, but never they would never permit a child to making uninformed life decisions." The lanky Jedi nodded at Cimiré, Sabé and Kadran. "Those three for example. They shine the brightest in the group aside from your padawans. By the time the Naboo would allow us to have the children, our own traditions deny them training."

Obi-Wan considered her statements. "It sounds like you are advocating taking more apprentices like Padmé and Anakin."

"Were a dying Order, Obi-Wan. How many Memorials were held last year? Thirty? We find fewer children with the ability every year, and in many cases, the parents refuse to let us have them." She rolled and propped herself on one elbow, spearing him with her sharp golden eyes. "What time and circumstance do not wring from us, the weight of tradition will crush."

Obi-Wan sat stunned and staring at the woman across from him what she was proposing

Was what he had already done.

"Many feel as I do, Obi-Wan. Many of us are tired of protecting the peace and freedom of the Senate to screw things up to a fare-the-well and then sending in the Jedi to clean it up. We're tired of the misinformed and wrongheaded decisions of the Council that either get us killed or send us into situations where we should not be." Then she added hesitantly, "You of all people should understand that. How many times in the past few months have you found yourself holding the dirty end of the stick?"

Obi-Wan quietly reviewed his actions of the past months. He had turned thousands of years of tradition on its head, and far from being in opposition to the Council, he now stood in open rebellion. 

The discovery nettled him. 

It was probably amusing Gui-Gon no end that his orthodox padawan was now cast in the role of rebel.

"All I'm saying, Obi-Wan, is that there are more factions than you might know. Some want to go back to being a contemplative order, some want to have more of a say in the Republic and preferably more say than anybody else." The lanky woman pushed herself upright and perched with her elbows resting on her knees. "You've chosen a dangerous river to swim in, I just want you to be aware of the currents."

With that, she shoved off and went back to the game, leaving Obi-Wan to wonder just what he was walking into.

~

Padmé finished the last of her obligations, sat back in her seat, and sighed. The royal cruiser had been upgraded with faster engines, which made her push to finish her work and ready it for transmission before they made the next jump point.

The Chancellor's Inauguration was a festive event, lasting upwards of a week with balls, receptions, state dinners, luncheons and whatever other events could be added to an already popping-at-the-seams schedule.

The Embassy boasted a fully equipped fitness center, and from a glance at some of the menus provided with the invitations, she was going to be spending a lot of time there. It seemed that cream-based dishes and deserts were in style and everyone who was anyone had to have a pastry chef from Mindal. 

A smile quirked her lips. The Corellians were being predictably unpredictable. Twelve hours after their scheduled arrival on Coruscant, the Corellian Embassy was holding a reception in _her_ honor. The sheer number of invitations – even lacking the input of Senators Palpatine and Goorni – showed that Naboo was now considered a major player on the galactic stage. 

A yawn and a longing look at her bed accompanied another stretch. Everyone was trying to adjust their sleep cycles to Coruscant District One time. She wanted to sleep, but had at least another three hours before she could do so.

Obi-Wan had told both her and Anakin that in time and with training they would not need to sleep. Meditation could fulfill the need in a more orderly and concentrated fashion. They could sleep if they wished, even many Jedi found it pleasant to do so, but they would no longer be bound by the body's need to process and renew. 

_Speaking of renew_

A quick check on Anakin proved him to be deeply asleep, small flutters of emotion flitted across her perception as he dreamed.

She had been worried that following the trauma of having the link severed, that he might not be able to rebound in time to take his exams as he wished. Certainly, she had taken weeks to recover, but

Padmé drew a shaky breath and forced herself to think. Someone had spent a lot of time linking to her and turning her into a lethal trap, someone who had seen her often, and probably someone she trusted. Even after many hours spent with Mace Windu and Obi-Wan, they had been unable to even make a start on winnowing the field. The Sith who had set it was a master of camouflage and could be anyone. 

The sense of violation was overwhelming and frustrating, too, for she could not explain how she felt to anyone. Not her parents, her friends, not even really to Ani or to Obi-Wan. 

Anakin looked at what the Sith had done to him as an act of espionage. The Sith had apparently not had enough time or access to do much more than inflict a thin and unreliable bond on him. However, he looked at what the Sith had done to her as an act of war. Her fellow padawan was reckless and negligent of his own safety, cocky in the way that the fighter pilots were and secure in his own perceived immortality. Padmé wished that he would take his own safety as seriously as he took hers. Any threat to her and the boy turned into someone dangerous. When he had said that he would give deep payback to the Sith who had done this, the expression on his face had frightened her more than his words. Diamond could not have been harder, and liquid nitrogen would have been warmer. 

Ani held her together that first week, telling her that she was no more to blame for what had happened than she would be for catching a contagious disease. Infections were opportunistic, and so was the Sith. They covered the same ground ten times a day.

Could she have possibly known what was happening? Did she have training in use of the Force that would have let her know that her natural defenses had been subverted? Could she have stopped it even if she didn't know what was happening? Did she herself attack Anakin? Could she control the thing that had seized her when it took a Jedi Master of some forty years experience and a Knight to sever that link? 

The answers were always 'no.'

Master Windu pointed out that the power he had sensed was well trained, well used, and old. The Sith, whoever he was, had been around a very long time. Since the tattooed Zabrak whom Obi-Wan killed was only in his third decade, it was the master whom Padmé had fought. That being was strong enough to kill trained Jedi, not to mention a pair of cubs like Anakin and Padmé. 

Obi-Wan let her read the texts that he had used in his research, feeling that if she knew what she had survived, she might be more at ease with it. He also pointed out that even at this early point in their training, either she or Anakin would know if someone tried anything like that again. Not to mention the fact that Obi-Wan would know through their training bond. 

All the same, she blinked back tears. 

No matter what anyone said, someone she trusted had intended to harm her. 

It hurt.

~ 

How he hated walls. 

The Jedi master stared at the dull red rock. Three meters thick, dense and laden with metals that had the odd effect of partially blocking the occupant's attempt to extend his use of the Force outside the room, his aerie prison was growing more intolerable by the day. 

Sitting cross-legged on the thin pad that served as his bed, Qui-Gon swore to himself that if he ever got out of here, he would never live in a place without many windows. Since he had awakened in a bacta tank in the Healer's care nearly three months ago

Was it three months? It was hard to tell when he had no method of telling time. Not even the Council's or healer's occasional visits to his prison gave him any idea of whether it was day or night. Even Sifo-Dyas did not keep any type of schedule, making his torments random ones. 

Not that they were any less effective. 

Every moment of his life as a Jedi was dissected, every thought and action, every motivation and method held up to scrutiny. Qui-Gon could almost feel bits a layers of his self being peeled and flaked away under the constant pressure. His bond with his padawan was subjected to intense critique, and until Qui-Gon remembered that his tormentor had some very bad luck with his own padawans, he had considered severing the bond himself.

Not one of Sifo-Dyas' apprentices had survived to knighthood.

There were good reasons for that – at least on the face of it. One had died in a speeder crash, a hundred vehicle disaster caused by failure of one of the massive floating billboards. Another had been overwhelmed in a firefight when a diplomatic mission to a world embroiled in civil war went from bad to worse. The third and last had turned to the Dark side and had been struck down by Sifo-Dyas himself. 

Only now, since an odd series of visits from the Council and some very senior healers, did Qui-Gon sense anything different from the ascetic master - and what Qui-Gon sensed made him doubt his sanity. It must be that his perceptions were being colored by his dislike of the man.

Nevertheless, Sifo-Dyas was the one who proposed cutting his bond to Obi-Wan. Mace Windu and Qui-Gon butted heads often enough to develop a healthy respect for each other, but he had never dreamed that Mace would so thoroughly balk the Council by telling a mere Knight of their plans. Bless him.

Obi-Wan's warning had given him enough time to ready himself for the eventuality. The healers had been very attentive, and frankly, Qui-Gon was feeling better than he had in a very long time. They could not parade the reformed maverick about at the Convocation next week if said maverick died of the tremendous physical shock. 

It had taken much to hold on to himself, these past months. Only his bond with his heart-son had kept Qui-Gon from utter despair and soon that would be taken from him in a last ditch effort to break him. How could any of them allow

Qui-Gon sighed. The answer to that lay within the Jedi themselves. Factions had been developing for years and now the rifts were so deep and wide that the Order was threatening to split itself asunder. The Convocation was less of a gathering of the Jedi this time, and more of a last-ditch effort at reversing the tangle of ideological brambles back into quiescent seed. 

A touch on the bond proved Obi-Wan and his traveling companions in hyperspace. Moving in those dimensions caused a being's presence to feel attenuated and displaced to one in the mundane flow of space-time. That his former padawan was coming here was no comfort, he might well be walking into a neat trap laid for him and his own padawans, Padmé and Anakin. 

~

The view of the setting sun was intoxicating. 

Of course, the locale had much to do with it. Mero Palpatine, scion of the Chiavi family of Naboo turned from the window and gazed about his domain. 

The Chancellor's Residence was a palace. Meant to reflect the importance of the office, rather than of the being holding it, the Residence was the very distillation of the Republic's breadth and scope of power. Five hundred above-ground stories held living suites, conference rooms, reception areas, dining halls, offices, staff quarters, a private indoor parks, and a shuttle bay. In the fifty below-ground stories were the environmental controls, security systems and offices that handled sensitive materials.

All were staffed with those he knew to be loyal to him

It was a good feeling.

The Office of State was often customized to reflect the tastes of the office holder. In a decade–long term, the user's personality could often be determined from the décor of the room itself. 

The former occupant, Finis Valorum, had ruled for fifteen years from an office of muted tones, decorated with inoffensive portraits and abstract sculptures.

Mero Palpatine, known sometimes as Darth Sidious, had gutted the place. Now the walls were lacquered and the floors carpeted in scarlet, his desk stood on a dais before the window with it's impressive view of the Senatorial District skyline. Two large and deliberately uncomfortable couches sat to either side of the entry that bore the Chancellor's seal. Sculptures of some of the more controversial historical characters filled artfully placed niches or pedestals. A scattering of chairs – as uncomfortable as the couches – completed the room. While petitioners might be asked to sit, he would be quite at ease in his own throne-like chair, virtuously behind his desk in service of the Republic. 

The smile turned savage, dripping with malice. Petty setbacks were mere annoyances. The breaking of his careful strings to the girl and the brat were negligible, but he would make Obi-Wan Kenobi and Mace Windu pay for his agony a thousandfold. In time, even the Jedi would self-destruct under his care and attention, and the approaching Convocation was just the right time to detonate some charges and set others.

He would serve the Republic, indeed. It would drink and eat the poisons he proffered, dying with each drop and yet eager for more. In the end, when it was too sick, too addled to be of further use to him, he would serve it a death stroke and rule as he had been meant to rule – as Emperor Palpatine, Dark Lord of the Sith.

~

Not far away, the setting sun illuminated another figure. Tall and spare, the being moved up a corridor in the massive Jedi Temple. In the scarlet twilight, the pale robes and long white hair of the creature were the color of the lacquer on the walls of Palpatine's office – the color of freshly spilled human blood. 

Syfo-Dyas moved with a stately grace that belied his advanced years. Though nearly one hundred years old, he had the smooth skin and grace of a younger man. His hair was full and healthy, his joints did not creak, all of his organs functioned normally and at levels that made the healers murmur in quiet admiration.

The dead never missed it, anyway. 

A small thread tied to another creature's life force kept one in good health for a very long time. A little discretion and extra time dispensed with the need to use elaborate and conspicuous means of reversing the damage caused by immersing one's self in the Dark. 

It was a good thing that he had never taught Sidious that trick. The glutton would suck everyone he met dryer than bleached bones. 

Stopping to admire the approaching darkness, Sif-Dyas allowed himself to review that mistake. He never shpuld have looked outside the Jedi for an apprentice, but there was young Mero, a staffer for the junior Senator from Naboo. Palpatine had been so hungry, even then, and with such a could grasp on the principles of deceit and misdirection. 

Sifo-Dyas had subtly directed the young man, even before they had met. He fed the young man's sense of outrage and injustice with clever manipulations, saw to it that he would enjoy the exercise of power, and when the fruit was ripe, Sifo-Dyas had plucked his apprentice neatly off his branch. 

Too late, he saw that Mero's appetite for ostentation and grandiosity. It was only when his sabotaged ship was going down in flames that he understood the betrayal, so courteously explained as the console locked up and his apprentice's laughter filled his hears and fanned his rage. 

It was gratifying to watch the thud-fingered little cretin make mistake after mistake. It filled the hours that he had to fold his hands and wait patiently for his own plans to mature. 

He resumed his progress to the upper levels of the tower, brooding over the unexpected failure of his plans for Qui-Gon. A vexed noise escaped him as he considered the situation. Dooku had quit the order, going into seclusion far away from his machinations. Dooku had potential as a possible apprentice, but Qui-Gon Jinn now he could have been a Sith to be reckoned with. 

It was unfortunate that he was so deeply stubborn. Perhaps his former padawan, Obi-Wan might be turned? The boy had tasted the power of the Dark side in his battle with Sidious' apprentice, and once tasted the Dark was so addictive. Certainly, what Sifo-Dyas was about to do would provoke some very telling emotions from the manchild. 

The hallways were narrower now, the widows fewer and farther between. In former eras, the upper levels of this tower had been used to hold former Sith initiates, heretics and madmen. It did more than well to hold one weakened and ailing Jedi master. The door opened to his command and he permitted the benign mask of Sifo-Dyas to fall away, revealing Darth Devastuus. 

There was no need to pretend any more. He had the approval of most of the Council for what he was about to do and if Qui-Gon failed to survive, then he was too weak a tool to waste oxygen on anyway.

His lip curled in derision at the sight of Qui-Gon, eyes closed in meditation, at one with the Living Force. 

The Jedi's eyes opened, the steely blue at once determined and resigned. 

"This will accomplish nothing that you might hope for, Sifo-Dyas." 

For a fraction of a second the calm certainty in Qui-Gon's voice made him hesitate, and on the heels of that hesitation came fury. He would break Obi-Wan Kenobi and turn him, and he would make sure this his anguished master saw every last second of his beloved heart-son's fall from grace.

But for now, he gathered his power and struck.

~

Obi-Wan coached Anakin and Padmé though their forms. In time, this would give them the necessary foundation skills for using lightsabers, but for now, each padawan held a thick stick weighted at one end. 

Both were making good progress. 

Anakin would do well with one of the more aggressive styles of combat. There were many forms and school of saber combat within the Jedi, each suited to a particular build or personality. Mace Windu was a master of a highly aggressive and controversial style that had roots in the earliest days of the order. Perhaps in a few years, he might persuade the enigmatic master to impart some of his expertise to Anakin. 

Padmé used a style that mimicked some of her close combat training. Nearly full grown, she would never be a massy powerhouse of a fighter, so she used her opponent's tactics against him. A rush meant to mow her down wound up with her assailant flat on his back, staring at the ceiling and trying to get his breath back. 

He had accepted the offers of sparring practice from some of the Jedi and enjoyed once more pitting his mastery of his chosen form against another. Pleasantly tired, he sat on a box in the empty cargo hold that served as a free-use space for the cruiser and watched the pair.

Something caught his attention, something far away yet very close – like a quiver in the stands of a web. 

Web.

Strand.

Bond.

::: Master,_ no! _:::

That bond to Qui-Gon, that he had compared in his mind to a rope of spun and twisted diamond shuddered under a blast of power. 

And another.

He could feel Qui-Gon resisting, blocking and shielding with every reserve, but weakening as his injuries drained him quickly. Obi-Wan threw his own strength against the assault, feeling the bare deck under his knees and hearing the alarmed shouts of his padawans. 

That power batted him aside as if he were a songbird in a cyclone and slammed into the bond.

It shattered under the stress, the rainbow fire searing his soul, blistering his spirit. It felt as if millions of pieces of that diamond strand had lodged in his being, piercing him to the heart and him writhing in an agony too massive for screams to compass. His body and mind sought an escape to nothingness and he fell into it with a prayer of thanks, the soft weeping and murmurs of his padawans like waves lapping at a distant shore.

~


	12. Some Other Future's Past 11

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter 11

~

The Embassy District was thick with traffic. Shuttles and small cruisers filled the air with the whine of engaging repulsors and the rumble of displaced air. Morning fog lay thickly over all, obscuring all but the top hundred or so stories of the highest buildings. Landing pads displaying the banners and sigils of thousands of worlds floated serenely above the cloud over.

On the landing pad that flew the royal sigil of Naboo, a small crowd of beings waited. Armed guards in the red armor of the Diplomatic Corps scanned the surrounding buildings and spoke quietly with snipers hidden nearby. There had been enough attempts on Queen Amidala's life that a special detail had been assigned to watch over her during her stay. To one side stood a small group of Jedi, outwardly serene, yet there was a distinct chill between some of them. Some members – for reasons of their own – were not present at all. 

A small party opposite the Jedi was composed of Senator Aden Goorni, a short gray-haired man soon to be appointed to Senior Senator upon the Chancellor's formal assumption of office. Ambassador Brendal Ysao, less than a decade older than the Queen was a pale, slender, blue eyed blonde of Kindaree descent and noted for his dispassionate demeanor. As they waited with a full medical team at their sides, the men gave the impression that they were the only ones on the platform.

A silver gleam brightened on the horizon and grew larger as it approached the platform before resolving itself into the liquid silver, flying-wing shape of the Royal craft. An escort of twelve bright yellow Nubian fighters arrayed in a protective dodecahedron formation around the ship, breaking away to land just as the cruiser touched down.

There was a pause, then the ramp into the craft lowered; revealing a woman in a deep blue, knee-length cowled tunic. With a sharp gesture, she beckoned the medical team into the ship, sealing the ramp almost on their heels once they were aboard.

There was only waiting as other ships entered and exited the proscribed airspace of the District. The Senatorial, Embassy and Governance Districts formed three interlocking rings of light when viewed from orbit and traffic here, while still heavy, was tightly controlled. There had been many small actions of late against certain targets within District One, and with the Inauguration festivities as well as the Jedi Convocation, Coruscant Security Forces – called SecFor – were taking even fewer chances than usual. 

The very air seemed to chill even further when the ramp opened to allow a handmaiden and a tall, dark-haired Jedi to exit. Instead of making their way to the waiting Council, both headed for the Senator and the Ambassador, and conferred closely with the pair. 

The Ambassador Ysao made a gesture toward the party of council members and the dark haired Jedi did not so much as favor them with a glance before making a slicing motion with his hand. The ambassador nodded, his fine white-blond hair blowing around his head in a sudden downdraft, and spoke into a comlink. The reply, snatched by the rising wind, made him nod.

The Jedi and the handmaiden went back into the ship and the ramp sealed behind them.

A short time later, a large transport marked with the sigil of Corellia pulled up to the platform and extruded its wide gantry. On cue, the ramp of the royal cruiser dropped once more to permit the debarkation of the parties within.

Armed guards in light armor were first out. Dressed in the blue and burgundy of Naboo or the green of Corellia, their faces were grim as they took up positions around the ship and the transport. A sound of hydraulics filled the air as an ion cannon in the ship's dorsal pointed itself to the sky. The Jedi murmured among themselves, some looking shocked, others grim. Master Yoda bowed his head, looking almost pained.

The party that came down the ramp next was even more shocking. The techs that had entered the ship guided a medsled with a still, pallid form aboard. Telemetry devices fed readouts with red, green and yellow graphics. Obi-Wan Kenobi, his dark red hair in gruesome contrast to his white, drawn face, lay unconscious within. A small blond boy sat at the foot of the bed, his hair cut spacer short and his padawan braid ostentatiously over his right shoulder. His blue clothing was a cross between the court dress of Naboo and Jedi robes. 

To the right of the bed, holding the unconscious man's hand was Queen Amidala. Dressed in a richer version of the boy's clothing, she wore the ritual pace paint of her office and a sapphire speckled circlet of woven platinum wires around hair upswept to reveal a thin braid that demarcated the hollow of her right shoulder.

Both young woman and boy gazed at the assembled council, then wordlessly lifted their chins in a gesture of utter defiance. The boy's blue eyes gleamed dangerously as they rested on each individual in turn, seemingly marking them out. The queen rested a hand on his shoulder and the blue-star fury subsided somewhat; not quelled, but banked against a time when it would be of use. Next down the ramp came handmaidens, dressed in deep blue tunics, weapons at hip. The deep cowls his all but the stubborn set of jaws and the occasional movement of lips as the spoke to one another. One moved to grasp Obi-Wan's other hand, folding her small, slender fingers around it. The Queen reached over to pat her handmaiden comfortingly. 

Garm Bel Iblis, his face looking like a cloud about to spit lightning joined the group. His aide, a young man with an unruly shock of brown hair and eyes that missed little joined him at the foot of the medsled. Each man wore armor under ambassadorial robes and carried a CorSec issue heavy blaster. 

Newsie camera droids began to cluster, the bright logos of their networks flashing as they looped about the platform. In nearly two hundred newsrooms, programming managers of over a thousand species cut off other programming and seamlessly edited the flow of footage for their commentators to follow. 

Naboo was news. Anything and everything they did lately attracted paeans of praise or foaming-at-the-mouth criticism. Corellia had taken up their cause and now other worlds were stumbling to follow suit with greater or lesser degrees of success.

But this! This was pure platinum in terms of ratings! 

Knight Gia Bellan, a short Corellian with pale brown hair and warm brown eyes, with her dazzlingly blue-skinned Twi'lek padawan Jassrie came down the ramp. They were followed by Knight Kevritt Sural, the tall dark-haired Jedi, gently guided his new apprentice – a golden-skinned, hairless, ten year-old Yinari boy named Takk. Nieran Thassi, one of the genderless, utterly androgynous Lue slipped down the ramp with a padawan from his/her own sect. 

Only a peek at chromosome pairing could determine a Lue's sex, because the mid-range voices and absence of any male or female physical traits gave no clue to the observer. The olive-skinned, hazel-eyed beings were calm of face and stride as they conferred with each other.

Copper-skinned Jana Kurchan and Master Puaraa Li – a female of Shaak Ti's race – spoke softly as they joined their fellows. 

Not one favored the south end of the landing platform with so much as a glance.

The Council stood as if turned to stone, only Master Shaak Ti cold be heard stomping a foot in agitation. 

Three young pages hustled down the ramp, hiding among their elders like chicks in the wings of their parents.

Finally, one last person came down the ramp and signaled the crew to bring it up. Dressed in a long brown robe, the being permitted the hood to fall back and reveal his face.

The heads of forty-some networks got religion when Master Mace Windu walked over to the medsled and gently touched the young knight on the forehead.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, lips moving and the older Jedi covered the younger's eyes with an opaque coolpack. After a few words to the Queen and the boy, he herded the entire company ahead of him to the transport. As he came to the ramp, he paused and looked across the platform to his bretheren.

Yoda was the first to break the deadlock, moving haltingly across the platform on his cane. 

~

Gesturing the others into the transport and telling them firmly to stay put, Mace Windu moved to intercept the tiny, ancient master.

They stood in silence for a moment, Yoda having come farther across the platform that it seemed that his limping gait would allow. 

"The ruling of the Council you have disobeyed." Yoda's voice was soft, but with a note of steel in it. Every Jedi going back more than five hundred years had heard that voice from infancy, they knew the small master's presence and felt safe within his care. It was a mightily hard voice to disobey.

"Because we were wrong, and we are wrong." The dark-skinned master's voice was heavy with sadness and regret. "I can see that now. Why will you not consider"

"To much risk there is. Been a Jedi have I for eight hundred years, Mace." Closing his green eyes, Yoda shook his head. "Bare my Order's throat for the deathstroke I will not."

"Instead we slowly twist in the noose, old friend. Dead is dead quick or slow. These young ones may be our only hope against the darkness to come." And come it would, like a flood, and tear the Republic from its very foundations.

Opening his eyes, Yoda gazed at the transport where Anakin Skywalker – whose command of Basic could not be too good, as Mace remembered quite clearly telling him to stay put – leaned against the bulkhead and stared out at the pair. The handmaiden Rabé joined him, and Amidala herself, who returned Mace's raised eyebrow with one of her own. 

When he had time to speak to those two He prayed that the Force might be with him; he had never met with a bigger pile of stubborn in his life.

"Obey Qui-Gon's request, it would seem Obi-Wan has – against all orders. Even worse is to take a padawan as a nearly grown girl! Surprised I am with you, Mace Windu, that this you would do such." 

Mace had not been surprised that Obi-Wan would take on a padawan, no, the young man had much to offer. Even if lacking experience, the young Jedi was en excellent teacher. What had floored the elder Jedi was that he had taken both Anakin and Amidala, in addition to teaching all who would come to him. That morning in the garden had been like watching a sure, steady flame surrounded by bright sparks. 

"Not I, Master. Both Anakin and Amidala are padawans to Knight Kenobi."

"What do you say?!" Yoda literally rocked back on his heels, his voice carrying across the platform. Then in an agitated mutter he said, "Speak with him I must. There are reasons for our ways and casting the grain away with the chaff he is!"

Mace forestalled the elder master with a hand. "I would wait, Yoda. Your reception – especially by his padawans – might be very hostile, especially since the incident that put him in that medsled was approved by the Council."

"Told we were that Obi-Wan would not be harmed."

"Yet you can see that is not the case." Once the Jedi had managed to pry his padawans off their unconscious master, the amount of damage done had been frightening. The bond had not broken, but shattered – almost as if to do as much damage as possible. "Obi-Wan has been unconscious until just this morning. What was done was cruel, not only to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, but to Amidala and Anakin who were frightened nearly to death. Are you determined to drive them into such deep dislike of us? Already they see us as enemies, not allies."

"Discuss this we must. A family are the Jedi supposed to be. Consensus we must have!" Yoda starred at Anakin, and Anakin matched the ancient look for look. "Or lose everything that we are. You will attend the Convocation?"

Mace Windu inclined his head in assent. It was a mark of the order's internal strife that yoda would even ask. "I will be at the embassy if you should need me. As will the others."

Yoda simply sighed and returned to the Council more slowly than he had come to meet Mace.

~

The embassy of Naboo, thought Obi-Wan, seemed determined to out-Naboo Naboo. Granted, he had seen little of it, but what he had seen was dazzlingly beautiful and seemed to fly in the face of Coruscant's megapolitan atmosphere. Flowers bloomed in lighting designed to mimic that of Naboo's primary and Naboo's wealth of ornamental stone and rare woods was in copious evidence. Even water was lavishly showcased in ornamental fountains, pillars and waterwalls.

Now he lay in yet another soft bed, aghast at how worn he felt. His head still felt like a broken pot, even though he knew there was no physical damage. The dim light was easier on his eyes, and hid the tears that wanted to overwhelm him.

The place where his bond to Qui-Gon had been was a raw, screaming wound. All through his spirit, he felt as if he had sustained shrapnel wounds. He could not so much as light a candle or enter rapport with his padawans without excruciating pain. 

He had to try and recover quickly, the thought that a mere two days of Master Windu riding herd on his padawans 

It was also imperative that he get up and about soon, so that he could get to the temple and rescue Qui-Gon. There was no further doubt in his mind that whatever the future held for him and for his master, it was not to be found within the walls of the Temple. Obi-Wan reached for his master's presence, ignoring the pain it caused. The only thing that he was able to ascertain was that Qui-Gon was still among the living.

"Stop that." The voice came into the room with the scent of spiced fish broth and tea. Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Rabé set a tray on the bedside table. 

The young handmaiden was dressed as she might have back home, in a simple plum-colored tunic and leggings, her dark hair in a thick waist-length braid. Obi-Wan was embarrassed to need her aid in getting to a sitting position, and even more embarrassed when he had to use both hands to lift the cup of broth to his mouth.

"You need rest, Jedi Kenobi. Whatever you were doing, it did not look restful. Please do not do it again." She tugged the bedding into a more comfortable position and took a place in the cozy, velvet covered bedside chair.

The broth was delicious, not too hot, but enough to warm him. Warmth brought relaxation, dulling the pain in his head. His eyelids sagged involuntarily, and he fought to concentrate and stay awake.

"Rabé"

The empty mug was taken from his hands, the covers pulled up. "Hush."

The indignant ghost of a thought brushed Obi-Wan's mind. He was a Jedi and being hushed by a little girl! A reply fought to solidify enough for him to speak.

His lips moved, but no words formed.

"Hush." 

His eyes closed even more insistently. .

"Hush."

Obi-Wan went into the soft darkness of deep, healing sleep.

~

In the quiet of the Healer's observation wing, Qui-Gon lay in a softer bed than the one he had been given in the tower. He did not remember coming here, carried in Healer Chaawushro's arms like a child would carry a doll. 

He did remember, however, the Wookie healer threatening to tear off Sifo-Dyas' arms and beat him to death with them if he so much as came near her charge.

Wookies, even those rare few who became Jedi, still had certain turns of phrase. The thought brought back a memory of Obi-Wan, no more than fifteen under Chaawushro's gentle care. 

The Jedi was unaware of his tears until the soft arms of the healer cradled him like a child once more.

"Your heart-son is here, old friend," she crooned. "He is here and in care of those who love him. All will be well. All will be well."

~

It was his fifth ruby bliel and Anakin was getting tired. 

He had begged some time to explore the huge city-planet, and in the hubbub had his wish granted. Padmé was asleep, Obi-Wan as well, when he slipped out of the embassy in a dark blue coverall with a billed cap covering his hair. In a short time he had found one of Coruscant's less savory districts and set about chatting up the locals. In a short time, he found himself halfway across the planet watching swoop races in a derelict industrial district. 

Refinery burn-off lit the sky with a lurid glow, distorting colors and faces into a parade of death's masks. Making his way down a street lines with tattered stalls and battered signs, he chucked the empty cup and looked for something to eat. Some gingib or a tarna sandwich would hit the spot right about now.

The sizzle of meat juices dripping onto a heating element pulled him aside, to a stall manned by a Dug. The oddly articulated being carved him two tarna and took Ani's four credits. As he ate, Anakin looked around, trying to pick out someone, anyone, who could help him.

"You Skywalker." The Dug scratched his moustache with his big toe. "You whipped Sebulba in Boonta Eve."

"Yeah, that's me." Anakin dropped one hand to the pocket on his pants leg that held his blaster. "Who're you?"

"Me Barruda. Old time racer. Sebulba my tribe-fellow." The Dug surprised Anakin with a booming laugh. "You got 'im good, that cheating slime-sucker. What you doing in this place, little human boy?"

"I'm looking for something." Anakin looked at the passing crowds. "I need to make some fast money. I just need to keep it quiet."

The Dug's moustaches all but stood on end. "Lookin' for a pod?"

Anakin took a bite of his second sandwich and chewed it before swallowing and answering. "Not pods, I promised someone... that I wouldn't race pods."

"What den? You want to get on some action, I tell you."

Dispatching the last of his sandwiches, Anakin nodded to a sleekly tricked-out swoop. "I want action. What about those?"

The Dug turned off his neon sign and poured Anakin another ruby bliel. 

~


	13. Some Other Future's Past 12

Hello, everyone! Thanks for the feedback and I hope you all had a happy Thanksgiving! :)

author wanders back to working on the next chapter, a pile of turkey sandwiches at her elbow 

~

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter 12

~

Padmé had no sooner rolled into bed when she had to roll right back out again, called by the reception desk to deal with a rather insistent Wookiee.

"And she wants to see Obi-Wan?" Master Windu matched her stride for stride down the sunwood and lapis paneled corridor to a private reception room. 

Briefly, she considered waking Ani, but discarded the notion. Coruscant did not seem to agree with him, he had been very tired when she saw him and ordered him back to bed.

"She says that she is a master healer and a Jedi, Master Windu." 

The dark-skinned man nodded. "Chaawushro."

"Pardon me?" The name sounded like a strangled sneeze.

"Master Chaawushro is a healer, one of the best we have with long-term or critical patients. If Qui-Gon was injured as Obi-Wan was, she would be the natural choice for his care." 

A gesture from Mace opened the counterweighted stone doors into the reception room. Paneled in soothing blues and with the musical accompaniment of water trickling over stones, the room had done little to calm the red-coated Wookiee pacing back and forth.

Padmé felt a slight twist of apprehension. - she had never seen a Wookiee this closely, much less met one. Chaawushro had to be two-and-a third meters tall! Blazing green eyes locked on Master Windu and a series of harns, yelps and growls sounded like an invitation to mayhem. 

The Jedi obviously made sense of them. "Yes, Chaawushro, he is here and you will be able to see him. You have to understand why we are being so cautious. The past months have been full of trials that would send many experienced Jedi to hide under their beds, much less a new knight and a pair of fledgling padawans."

The Wookiee softened her tone, speaking with guttural growls and barks. Padmé felt a little stupid – this was obviously speech and she could not understand any of it.

"The dark power that this little one fought was old and strong. How many years has it hidden among us wearing a trusted face?" The Jedi seemed to be arguing now. "Yet she held it at bay long enough to give us a chance to break its grip, even at terrible pain to herself."

Chaawushro harned softly and looked down at Padmé, then knelt to look her in the eyes. Placing a huge hand on Padmé's shoulder the healer gave another harn, this one with an interrogative sound.

"She asks your permission to examine you." Master Windu's voice was neutral, giving her the right to refuse. "We have no healers with us, and this has been of some concern to me."

"All right, but I don't know if the medical wing is open" Padmé broke off as Chaawushro's hands settled to either side of her head, then the room faded into a mist of golden light. 

She breathed and the light was inside her - in her beating heart, flowing through her veins, zipping along her nerves, in every molecule in every cell of her. It was as if only the thin mebreane of her skin held the being that was Padmé Naberrie and if that barrier was gone, she would fade into this glorious everything without a second thought. 

The light took on purpose now, moving about sounding not only her physical self, but her spirit. Odd visions flashed across the mist – 

Her own baby fist around her father's finger. 

Sola and she playing in a pile of autumn leaves.

The exact way that the underside of her mother's dining room table looked.

The memories – some that she didn't even know she had played out like a holorecord. Good and bad, comforting and frightening, Padmé studied her life with a certain fascination. Wondering why she had made some decisions and not others, why she had done this instead of that. Then came the memories of the blockade and invasion, the flight and the fear that was with her every second. Even now, she wondered at some of her decisions.

Why this and not that? What if opportunities had she failed to see? What more could she have done for Naboo?

Then the memories of that night

The mist roiled as she rejected them, the light dimming within and without.

The light seemed to contract around her, swaddling her as tightly as a babe. Carefully, those memories were laid open and Padmé felt her body rebel. No matter what Ani said, what she had done was horrible! She must be weakminded to have let someone in who could move her about like a puppet on strings! What if that evil remained? What if there was some residue within her that would begin to fester and rot, infecting her anew and endangering her friends and her world?

The golden light strengthened, pushing the darkness out of and away from her and she fought that. Some part of her wanted that darkness, desired the reminder of how stupid and vulnerable she had been.

She was afraid that without the anger, she could not be strong and that Obi-Wan and Ani would pay the price for her failing.

The light and the healer who lived within it – she could feel the Wookiee within the light, an inextricable part of it – denied her the carefully constructed reasons. The seedlings of darkness within, withered. 

A memory overwhelmed her. A shoulder beneath her cheek, a hand large enough to cover her upper back and a feeling of absolute security, love and safety. In the space of a few seconds, she moved between past and present.

Only now the shoulder beneath her cheek was covered in red fur, and wet with her tears. Instead of her mother's voice, there was a low croon and a large hand stroking her hair. She was wrapped in feelings of care, love and gentle regard – unquestioning, unconditional.

"She was moving away from us, pushing away so subtly that at first I did not notice." Master Windu's voice was quiet, concerned. "It appears now that the Force moved you to come here for more than one reason, Healer."

~

The first race of the night went well. Anakin had moved up in the rankings and would now be facing some of the best in the district. 

In a small poured plascrete garage next to the track, he carefully tuned the repulsors for a heavier shove. The stern-heavy swoops tended to fishtail in tighter turns and a racer really needed the push to get straightened out. 

"Good racing,kid." Barruda had been impatient to get to the track. Anakin had been late, delayed first by looking in on Obi-Wan and then by Padmé sending him back to bed. "You in three more tonight, all good payoffs."

Anakin nodded, watching the readouts on the repulsors. "What's the competition look like?"

The Dug spat. "Buncha bums. Spaceflot, mostly. Between jobs or jail terms."

Anakin shrugged. Racers – at least on the local level – were an unsavory bunch. "Doesn't matter as long as none of them know who I am."

Anakin Skywalker was a name too dangerous to be talked about here. The Dug had confirmed that there was a price on his head, quite a considerable one – it did not, however, match Anakin's potential for winnings on the track. The people behind the offer were not well liked or well trusted, either. The Black Sun had not commented one way or the other, but surprising word had come from the Hutts that none in their employ would take the bounty.

Spaceflot, however, might pose some danger. Hence Anakin had entered the races as Ashmi Brightsky from the smuggler's moon of Nar Shadaa. 

"They'll never know. Your hair is different and you taller a little." Barruda passed Anakin a thermabox. "Two tarna, a bag of fried nizziks, and a ruby bliel. How you can eat before a race, I donno. Most would be yukking it up in their helmets."

The tarna smelled delicious and he took a huge bite of the rolled sandwich, catching a bit of stray sauce with his finger. Ha paused for a moment at a feeling of deep sadness from Padmé – these dark moods came often, yet she passed them off as simply being tired or as something she had to deal with herself. Anakin sent feather light brushes of hug-feelings to her – just enough to let her feel loved, but not to know who was sending them. He wan not only supposed to be asleep, he didn't want her to think that he was listening in when he just could not help hearing her.

Briefly, he felt a flash of guilt for his actions – sneaking out, racing, making covert plans – but he could not ask Padmé to get involved in this. He understood a little about politics and diplomacy now, and if the Naboo were to be involved in what he was planning, it would be a major incident. All he wanted was a quick in to the Jedi temple and then out again with Master Jinn, something discreet.

For everything that would get him to that position, he needed money. Lots and lots of money. Bribes, tips for information, some equipment, access to restricted files that he could not slice into himself – all required cash.

Luckily, Barruda seemed to be as enamored of cash as Anakin. Negotiating a deal with him over the proceeds from the races had been difficult – Obi-Wan had flat-out said that Anakin was not to gamble or take percentages on anyone else's gambling. 

This made things complicated.

Hence, Anakin became an employee of Barruda, earning sixty percent of the prize for each race. Barruda kept forty percent and was free to bet on the outcome of the race.

However, as enamored as Barruda was of cash, he seemed to have no problem spending it to outfit his racer.

Anakin had been surprised to find real racing gear awaiting him this evening instead of the make-do second hand stuff he'd used last night. Boots, fireproof and thermal underclothes to go with them, a padded coverall and helmet were all in dark blue, piped and slashed with black and silver. The primer-grey swoop was now just as flashily painted as those of the competition, and his safety gear still had ratings stickers attached.

He had been stunned at the Dug's generosity and said as much. Good gear was not cheap.

"I good to my racers. Always been. You gonna make me money, I gotta keep you in one piece." Barruda grew quiet, brooding for a few minutes. "Besides, maybe you gonna give me somethin' money can't touch. What you told me last night?"

Anakin froze with a crisp-fried nizzik halfway to his mouth.

"Long time ago, I learned ain't all of anybodies bad. You tell me 'bout this Jedi, Quiggin? How he sick an' hurt, held for not doing nothing more than saying his mind?" The Dug reached for a spanner and fiddled it around with his feet, flipping it back and forth. "Well, my kind notta lotta like for Jedi, notta lotta like for Republicers, but you say he's good, the clan that took you in is good – just on everybody's wrong side. So maybe I gotta do payback for long-time-ago stuff."

Anakin was very quiet, listening as hard as he could to the Force and the Dug. 

"When I was little little, a couple a Jedi held off the Gran that came to burn our thorp because of something my father's father said that lots of others agreed with. The Republicers took us here, so's we wouldn't be killed or indentured. Maybe this man was one, humans keep looking different as they get old anyhows, so I'm thinking maybe we owe. I talked to my clan and kin. They thinkin' that, too." The Dug grinned. "An' maybe kick the Republic, the Gran and the Jedi right inna slats when we bust 'im out, too."

The buzzer for the next race blatted through the garage,

"Get movin', little human boy! We got a long night comin'!" 

Anakin stuffed the remaining half of one tarna into his mouth, followed by the last strips if nizzik and washed it down with the ruby bliel. With a ringing belch, he grabbed his helmet and fired up the swoop, heading for the track, wondering if being smeared into the wall of the track had just become the least of his worries.

~

Chaawushro leaned back in the Wookiee-proportioned chair that the Naboo had so politely brought for her. Nothing in Obi-Wan's room would either hold her weight or accommodate her with any degree of comfort.

Very nice people, the Naboo, but very skittish. 

Well, except for young Rabé. That cub was fierce enough for any five Naboo. It had taken a great deal of Mace Windu at his most persuasive to simply get the strong-minded child to let them in the door. Then it had been a fine tussle between Obi-Wan and Rabé over the strictest definition of 'rest.' 

Human males of the fairer-skinned varieties did turn such interesting colors when their dignity was offended – though why pinching someone's plums was something to get bothered about, Chaawushro had no idea. 

Obi-Wan was somewhat used to her ministrations, but had never sustained this type of injury before. In his own way, he had been as badly injured as his padawan or Qui-Gon. At least she had been able to ease him a great deal, though nothing would ease his mind until he had his beloved master where he could keep an eye on him. News of Qui-Gon's condition grieved him greatly, and he was bitter toward the Council and Sifo-Dyas. 

Anger was not in Obi-Wan – much to Chaawushro's great relief. Even wholly justified anger could go from spark to firestorm if not watched carefully. 

Both the young man and Padmé were asleep. Padmé in the bed that she had been rousted out of, Obi-Wan in the rooms that had been given to him. 

The fur along her spine raised again and she felt her upper lip skin back to bare her sharp canines. So much hurt from malice on the Sith's part and stupidity on the Jedi's. Young Padmé would be long in healing the wounds to her spirit, even if the insult to her body had corrected itself.

The other Jedi who had come with this batch of oddlings looked in from time to time. Most she knew, others she didn't but all seemed in good health, if stressed. If he divisions in the ranks of the order reached even these far travelers, they were vast divisions indeed. 

Such as the one that had nearly swallowed Qui-Gon. 

Ever the nonconformist, going as far back as the creche, Qui-Gon walked a different path with an air of quiet boldness. Dooku had nurtured the child's intellectual freedom, encouraging him to investigate, explore, and question everyone and everything. 

In many ways, Obi-Wan reminded her of Qui-Gon – even if two more different people had never been made. Obi-Wan was more cynical, yes, but he still had the unfettered mind that his master had worked so very hard to develop.

Even if that unfettered mind reached conclusions vitally different from Qui-Gon's. 

At the moment, Sifo-Dyas was not in good odor with a large part of the Council, partially because of the harm that had befallen Qui-Gon at his hands, partially because of his failure to deliver an appropriately reformed penitent. However, the Council could order her to release him back to Sifo-Dyas – something that every sense she had screamed that she should not do. 

It was hard to shake the feeling that neither Qui-Gon, or Obi-Wan and his padawans should be within the same sector as the Jedi master. As much as she tried to push the image away, all she could see in her mind's eye was a kriipi battening on its helpless prey, injecting it with a solvent venom, and sucking it to a dried husk.

The more she thought on it, the more certain she became. Qui-Gon Jinn would not survive a week in Sifo-Dyas' custody and rather of walking him about the Convocation, they'd be holding his Memorial instead.

~


	14. Some Other Future's Past 13

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter 13

~

Anakin sprawled on the bed in his room at the embassy. It was midmorning on this side of the city-world of Coruscant and he was the happy recipient of his first full night of sleep in a week. Padmé and Mace Windu had come to look in on him at one point. The Jedi master had advised her to just let him sleep, saying that some took a long time to adjust to Coruscant's artificially maintained atmosphere.

His deceit caused him some guilt, but he knew that he had to go this alone. If it failed, he would be the one on the hook for it, and that was fine with him. His family would not be touched by any of it.

As it was, Padmé was always in a tearing hurry lately. A dinner here, a tea there – the last time she and Anakin actually managed a meal together she had nearly fallen asleep in her soup. He missed her terribly, but understood that she was doing her job – some of what she told him made him wonder if the job was worth it.

If you wanted to be around liars, murderers, thieves, and scumbags why not just go back to Tattooine? All this back stabbing and glad-handing was just not for him – Anakin wondered how she managed to get through the day without shooting anybody. Maybe Master Windu had something to do with that, he seemed to be filling in for Obi-Wan while he was recovering.

Obi-Wan was actually able to have visitors now, and Anakin made it a point to go see his master at least twice per day. They could talk until Obi-Wan went pale and shaky, and then either Rabé or one of the visiting Jedi would come to shoo him away. 

Come to think of it, if he succeeded in his plan to free Qui-Gon, he'd be in for the hiding of a lifetime from both his Angel as well as from Obi-Wan – assuming the former could stay awake and the latter could get out of bed.

Rabé might be right behind them, though. 

Eritaé would probably have something to say, as well.

Captain Panaka would certainly have a few choice words, as might Madam Meron, Justice Aspa, and

Anakin blinked. He might actually be in more trouble if he managed to pull this off than if he failed dismally.

It was not the racing that had kept him out last night - the four he had been entered in were early-prime time by virtue of his performance this week. 

Barruda had taken him to meet his thorp.

One place that Anakin would never be comfortable was in a room full of beings that looked like Sebulba. It was, however, heartening to know that even Sebulba's own mother thought that her son was pit slime.

The Dugs seemed all for helping Anakin, though. He felt sympathy for them, after all, they were natives of Malastare and the Gran were the interlopers. Even if the Dugs had attacked first, that did not excuse what the Gran, and in turn the Republic, had done to them afterward.

Here on Coruscant, the Dugs had found employment suited to their unique builds and abilities. They drove air taxis and courier skimmers through Coruscant's man-made canyons, sometimes at speeds that would sicken their passengers. They worked high-rise construction, leaping from beam to beam of skeletal buildings as they once had traveled the rain-forest canopy on Malastare. They worked in ventilation trades or deep underground in the tunnels that held vital utilities such as communication and data transfer. 

And many of them had plenty of ideas on how to get him into the temple, and back out again.

The first priority was to find out just how badly Master Jinn had been hurt. Anakin had the feeling that if Obi-Wan – who had been in perfect health before – was unable to walk across a room without aid then Qui-Gon might be in very bad shape indeed. 

Luuabu – one of Barruda's cousins – was a courier for one of the firms that imported rare botanicals and was occasionally assigned to take packages to the healers or the research wings of the temple. A small incentive slipped to her dispatcher would secure the assignment for her when the next batch came in.

A very old Dug, the thorp's matriarch, worked in the Permits and Permissions at the Department of Buildings and Safety. She would copy the most recent specifications of the temple for him, down to the ductwork. 

If there was no other way to get in, a team of Dugs who worked in the deepest part of Coruscant's underground could run him in through the sewers. 

Anakin sighed. He did not have a plan yet, but with any luck at all he would have one by the time the Convocation opened three days from now. 

With any luck at all? 

May the Force be with him, he'd need all the luck that he could get!

Especially since the embassy now held more Jedi than he had ever seen in one place. The guest wing – all five floors of it – was beginning to fill. If sneaking past the vigilant Diplomatic Corps guards was hard, sneaking past a few dozen Jedi was even harder. Anakin had attained new heights of stealth in his excursions.

The healer who came to see Obi-Wan, a Wookiee lady called Chaawushro, made him especially nervous. Anakin's understanding of Wookiee-speak was very good, and the way she looked at him made him think that maybe she knew what he was up to. 

She had asked to examine him, and at Padmé's insistence, Anakin had agreed.

It was unlike any other examination that Anakin had ever had. He had replayed every minute of his life, everything he had ever done, and it had actually been rather interesting. She had been especially interested in the night that Obi-Wan broke the Sith linkage - even if the memory was enough to make him wince with pain Anakin had been fascinated. He remembered very little, just that the whoever on the other end of the link had harmed his Padmé.

When Chaawushro had sat back, her face had been solemn. Padmé's face was tight, her hands hidden in the bell-sleeves of her dress. Mace Windu was as stone-faced as ever as they waited for the healer to speak.

"I think, young one, that you will have a very interesting life in addition to the events you have in your memory. I see the strength of the Force within you as I have not seen in a century and a half of living." The Wookiee's voice was low enough to vibrate his ribcage. "Choose your steps carefully, lest they take you down a path you never intended. Trust in those whose love you know as true, and all will be well."

Anakin had been bewildered. Why would he not trust those he loved? And what if he was so busy watching his feet that he ran into something? 

The Jedi needed to get better at straight talking – actually, most of Coruscant did as nobody here really seemed to say what they meant. 

Whoever Anakin was or was going to be, as far as Anakin was concerned, he would find out when he found out. Until then, there was plenty to keep him occupied. 

~

"I'm quite pleased that you could come at all, your Highness." Mero Palpatine poured Amidala a cup of her favorite sweetbark tea. "I know that matters have been quite pressing back home."

The girl queen smiled and tucked her head in polite thanks as she took the cup, her hand as delicate as a porcelain doll's in the sleeve of the rose-embroidered, pale blue silk overdress. "Thank you, Chancellor, for your support. You have no idea how much it means to me, or to our world."

His visit to the embassy was supposed to look spontaneous. After all, he had been one of Amidala's most vocal supporters when she was running against Veruna. With an air of 'more in sorrow than in anger' Palpatine had turned upon the man whose political career he had carefully guided into a morass of corruption and vaulted a young and idealistic girl onto the throne.

"It is a credit to your abilities, not my support, my Queen. If only we had you here on Coruscant, we might actually get something accomplished." 

The reception room was one of the smaller ones. Paneled in a rose marble shot through with veins of pure white and gold, it was used for when people of importance needed to talk away from bent ears. Palpatine allowed himself to visibly relax into the comfortable chair and a thoughtful expression to cross his features. 

Young Amidala, diplomat to the core, sipped her tea and waited for him to speak. 

"Yet, I worry. It seems that with every fire I extinguish, five more spring from its scattered embers. Even the Jedi are becoming overwhelmed, with the Senate so mired in corruption and their own disagreements sometimes those brave souls are the only tool I can wield to any effect." His fingers massaged his temples as he regarded the young woman from behind slitted eyes. "The strain even seems to have caught up with the young knight, Kenobi."

He could plainly see the padawan braid in Amidala's hair, and did not dare attempt to attach any links to her, especially not in a building that was rapidly and inexplicably filling with Jedi. Searches for the boy were fruitless – from time to time, a glimmer of Anakin Skywalker's presence would register before dropping out of perception once more. This was not the obscuring of one's power in the Force, something Palpatine did as easily as he breathed, but the complete camouflage of an entire being. 

Amidala took deep interest in the contents of her cup. "Knight Kenobi has been subject to extraordinary stresses. I am sure that the parties involved intended no harm."

"Surely his former master would be able to help? Master Jinn?" The older Jedi had been injured, but there had been time for him to heal enough to take low-stress missions. Instead, the roster of on-planet Jedi listed him as unavailable and inquiries sent to his comcode went unanswered.

Amidala's expression stiffened slightly. There was a time when she would have confided in him, but the Jedi had robbed him yet again of something that should have been his. In time, Amidala would have realized her potential in the Force and under his prompting, come to resent the Jedi who denied her the use of it. She would have been his puppet to play on the stage of galactic politics – now she was only of minimal use. Perhaps it was time to arrange for her removal.

"Master Jinn is involved in an internal policy matter. We have been unable to contact him for some time." The very blandness of her voice raised his interest. There was an internal dispute among the Jedi? This merited further investigation. Perhaps Amidala would be of further use after all.

~

The volume was deafening. 

_And to think that I thought that she was the quiet one!_

Obi-Wan blinked at the sudden silence and returned his gaze to Rabé. Her arms were crossed over her chest, the index finger of her right hand tapping at her left bicep. 

"I don't think that you understand, Rabé." His voice was calm, soothing. "I must attend the Convocation. I am in no danger from other Jedi." Obi-Wan had never expected her to become this exercised. All he had done was to say that he would attend the opening of the Convocation that would begin at sundown three days from now. 

Rabé was having none of it and her response would have made Anakin blink.

The Jedi convocation was begun on Long Night, Coruscant's winter solstice and the beginning of the new calendar year. Meant to symbolize the Jedi's watch against the powers of the Dark, it had become a weeklong planet-wide holiday whether during a Convocation year or not. Fantastic lighted displays were designed for every building and every flat had at least one lumastrand hung in the window. Beings partied all of Long Night, strolling charlatans performed magic, and musicians played on every surface that would hold them.

In the temple, Long Night was a day of solemnity and fasting. All lights were extinguished but for those in the healer's wing and the crèches, and only the illumination that could be made with the Force was permitted be used. At the first sign of dawn, all of the Jedi would assemble in the hall of the Convocation and join their light until the illumination inside made the entire hall glow. 

Obi-Wan intended to be there.

Rabé – who had obviously been appointed his keeper – disagreed.

Vehemently.

And loudly, too.

"Blast it to bloody blue hell! They nearly _killed_ you, you thick twit! Do you understand that for a period of time you were not breathing, your heart did not beat! How can you sit there and say that you're in no danger?" She stalked right up to him and waggled her finger under his nose. "Padmé and Anakin were nearly out of their minds at what they were feeling from you! Even Chaawushro said that it harmed them as well! I can understand putting your butt on the line, but you're dragging theirs right up there with yours!"

_Of course, she's worried for her friends!_

Now that he knew what was unsettling her so, he could find a way to put her concerns to rest.

"Rabé, Anakin and Padmé are in no danger from the Jedi. I'd wager that nobody knew that this kind of damage might occur, and from what master Windu told me, the Council was horrified at the aftereffect." Rabé flipped her braids, growling about near-death experiences being a _stang_ of an aftereffect, and Obi-Wan hastened his words before she could work up another head of steam. "Master Jinn is in the hands of one of the best healers in the galaxy, safe from all harm. All the same, if I put a question to the Council in the Open Forum, that question must be allowed and answered. I intend to ask the question to none other than Qui-Gon."

The Open Forum was a place for the settling of disputes that could not be resolved in any other way. By Jedi tradition, indeed by the laws of the Order, if Obi-Wan demanded to ask a question of Qui-Gon Jinn, then the Council would be required to produce the Jedi and being his master into the Forum.

"But this Sifodious"

"Sifo-Dyas is a Jedi of many decades standing and experience, Rabé," Obi-Wan interuppted. "I doubt that he knew this would cause so much harm. He is dogmatic, an ideologue, a traditionalist, and a purist, but he is not – could not be an intentionally cruel man, even if his methods might seems so."

The young woman looked very unconvinced and chewed for a second at her lower lip. "But"

"Mace Windu will be with me, and all of the others who seem to be encamped in the guest wing." Persuasive reason would have to be his tool of choice. Lately, though he was perfectly lucid, Chaawushro and Rabé had taken to talking right over his head as if he were not even there. "Anakin and Padmé could not be safer in their mother's arms, as well. What Darksider would be mad enough to come anywhere near them?"

~

Luuabu lounged in the rope hammock tied high in the rafters of Specialty Imports couriers' hangar, reading the latest issue of Underground and waiting for her comunit to chime. 

Teela's had in some new eardangles and flexilettes, maybe when she got her paychit this period, she'd buy a matched set of the red gingli stone and gold. Mother would scold, but there was that nice taxi driver from Uluuma's thorp 

Luuabu knew her finely toned arms and delicately flanged ears here her best features. A fem had to do what a fem had to do, but for a male with moustaches like that it was well worth it.

"Lu! Haya! Lu! Git down here!" The voice of the dispatcher echoed off the plascrete and durasteel of the hangar roof. "Got a deliv'ry for ya!"

Flinging herself out of her perch, Luuabu swung down the stanchions and conduits to the floor in front of the dispatcher's consoles. 

The jaws and vocal boxes of Dugs could only handle a small amount of the movements demanded by Basic, so most Dugs spoke the trade-tongue. Composed of Basic, Huttese and a smattering of Bothan, it was the unofficial language of small traders in the Outer and Mid-Rim worlds. Her boss Puggi, a Hutt who was female this cycle, refused to speak anything else.

"Whatcha got for me?" Luuabu held out her foot for the memstick in her Hutt's hand.

"What you and I talked about." Puggi's tail flipped lazily as she reclined on her couch, blinking both sets of eyelids as Luuabu took the memstick from her hand. "They're loading your flitter now."

Nodding, the young Dug slipped the memstick into her datapad. The run was a delivery to the healer's section of the Jedi temple, a big one with lots of exotics that required special handling to unload. Puggi was gestating her little one and the cash that Luuabu paid her for this assignment had been cheerfully accepted. 

Perfect.

As Luuabu pocketed her datapad, she inclined her head politely to her boss. "Thank you, Puggi, Can I get you anything while I'm out?" 

"Now that you mention it, Lu, I could really go for a tub of Huadi swamp blugs and a Fizzi-Freezi"

~

"I wish you could go with me, Demon." Padmé said as she hoisted her layered skirts to her knees. The blue, green and gold dress she was wearing to the Chandrilan Consul's early evening reception and conference was so elaborate that this was the only way she could put on her shoes. Her brown hair was caught up in cage of pearls and emeralds on gold wire, and her dark eyes were even more prominent against the white of her traditional makeup. 

"I have a lot of studying to do, Angel. I'll take a break later, maybe go to the arcade or the night market." Anakin turned his datapad face-down so Padmé would not be able to see exactly what he had been studying. "Besides, you know how rude I can get. If that ushni gimdac lip-mashes your knuckles one more time, I'm likely to do something that you might think was socially unacceptable."

The Eriadu had hosted a reception for the court of Naboo one evening and Anakin had not been able to beg off. 

In retrospect, he thought that might be a good thing as a colonel from that world's planetary defense force had chased Padmé all over the ballroom. Anakin did not know the man, but he instinctively disliked him even though his overtures to both Anakin and Padmé had been friendly. 

Padmé chided, "He was being polite." 

"He was drooling." Anakin sniffed in response. Wilhuf Tarkin now seemed to be everywhere Padmé was, looking at Anakin's Angel as if all he wanted was a fork and some hot sauce. Anakin knew that he was not jealous, but the thought of Tarkin breathing vacuum was somehow satisfying.

Shoes on, Padmé fell back in the chair, grabbing a few moments of relaxation. Anakin was very glad that she was feeling better, and that somehow the Wookiee healer had been able to help her. Just as there were things that he had to do on his own, there were things that his friend had to do on her own. 

They sat in silence, simply glad of the company, as the rest of the entourage getting into place. Rabé and Eritaé came gliding up in their deep rose dresses and cloaks. 

"Time, my Queen." Eritaé murmured. 

Managing her skirts deftly, Padmé rose from her chair and then bent over to give Anakin a kiss on the forehead. "Don't blow anything up while I'm gone?" She murmured, her lips curved in a slight smile against his skin.

"Go ahead, ruin all my fun!" Anakin mock-groused as he placed his own careful kiss on the soft wing of hair next to her temple. Saché would blister his ears if she had to redo Padmé's face or hair.

Anakin managed to keep his expression from shifting as his comlink chimed softly, lost in the bustle of departure. Surreptitiously hitting the callback button, he strolled out of Padmé's rooms and back to his own. 

Once inside, he pulled the device out of his pocket and felt relief and apprehension wash through him in equal measure. Luuabu had her assignment. 

Changing into casual clothing, Anakin commed Luuabu back, telling the Dug to meet him at the side entrance to the Fortune's Darling arcade, level one-twelve of the Siadi Corporation Recreation Multiplex. 

The real race, the defining contest, was now on. Anakin just hoped to cross the finish line in one piece.

~


	15. Some Other Future's Past 14

Author's Note: 

Dear Readers,

I'm so sorry to be so very long between updates, but work, family crises, illness and other manifestations of RL have really been working against me lately. I actually had this part written over a month ago, but tore it apart and rewrote it as I was seriously unhappy with it.

I've already started on the next bit, give me a couple of weeks.

In the meantime, I hope that you enjoy, and remember to let me know what you think!

Sincerely,

Chaos

~

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter 13

~

The first part of the operation had gone smoothly. Luuabu had been lounging in her flitter as the contents of the cargo hold were offloaded. One particular container, marked for the healer's wing, had been unloaded and put on a repulsor lift with orders that it be taken to the main infirmary. Anakin, buried under a load of sharp-smelling herbs, tried desperately not to sneeze. 

Now he was scurrying from niche to alcove, trying to get his bearings and remain undiscovered. The plans that the matriarch had given him were apparently a little outdated. According to his datapad, he was standing in a garden that serviced the medical wing when in fact he was in a long windowed hallway. If nothing else, he was at least in the proper building. This was a long-term and critical care facility and when he had been able drop his protective measures and 'look' around, he had found Qui-Gon.

It was like a little's game of Warmer/Colder. Anakin would move about the temple in what he thought of as 'sneaky mode,' heading in the direction of the Jedi's presence. From time to time, he would drop his 'sneaky' and look around, then readjust his course. 

He was close, very close.

This part of the complex was very quiet, not many beings at all moving around. There was something here that made Anakin deeply uneasy, though. There were feelings of 'not right' and 'bad' and a despair that was like walking through arachnid webs. 

Down the corridor, a service droid was coming from the kitchens, pushing a cart filled with meals. It must be dinner time, and that meant that Qui-Gon would be eating. A quick appraisal of the droid told him that this was a plain Treadwell dumbot, simply used for moving things from place to place and serving the needs of large institutions. When it paused in front of the doors that lead in the direction Anakin knew he needed to go, Anakin shot out of his hiding space and across the floor.

The droid never noticed as a human boy opened the waste bin and slipped inside. 

~

He knew he was dreaming, but could not muster enough interest in the world outside his head to wake up.

Qui-Gon burrowed more deeply into his pillow and decided that the dream was nice enough that he'd stay a while.

In it, Obi-Wan was bearded, with faded ginger hair grown long enough to wear in a shoulder-length tail. He and his former padawan were in a great hall somewhere, talking as a celebration went on around them. The details were vivid, from Obi-Wan's dark blue uniform and his own unusually ornate robes to the flowing, organic architecture of the room. 

Someone called Obi-Wan away, leaving Qui-Gon to watch the dancers swirling about the floor. One couple seemed to be having entirely too much fun. A tall young man dressed in the same style of uniform as Obi-Wan was dancing with a petite brunette, his enthusiasm for the dance occasionally causing her feet to leave the ground. Though he could not see their faces clearly, both were somehow familiar. It was enough to watch them, dancing to some internal joy as well as to the tune. 

The brunette was called away, leaving her young swain with open reluctance but kissing the young man hard enough to leave marks. The youngster let her go, then turned to look about the room. Vivid blue eyes in a tanned, strong-jawed face topped with short-shorn dark blond hair made him a handsome cuss, and the lad likely knew it. 

Qui-Gon felt a start of recognition – he knew this one! Wracking his mind, he sifted his memories for the name to go with the face.  

Next Qui-Gon knew, the young man was walking up to him, a smile lighting his entire being. A saber swung at one hip and Qui-Gon's mental scuttle became more frantic – he might slip up on a name of an acquaintance, but of a fellow Jedi? 

"We didn't forget you, you know." The young man told him. "We're already here."

Qui-Gon was even more confused. "Who are you?"

Reaching out, the blue-eyed man laid on hand on Qui-Gon's cheek.

"Wake up and find out," he said with a smile.

Well, that seemed reasonable enough.

Opening his eyes, he found himself staring into the same blue gaze – only set in a much younger face.

"Anakin?" Another dream? A hallucination?

The Jedi's doubts were banished when he was squashed in an unrestrained, joyous hug.

~

Anakin was overjoyed, and at the same time absolutely terrified. 

The robust and joyful Jedi of his memory was faded almost to nonexistence, leaving a thin, pale and obviously ill man in his place. Only the eyes convinced him that this was indeed Qui-Gon Jinn – and what Anakin saw horrified him.

"What did they do to you?" He winced as soon as the words left his mouth. Obi-Wan was right, he really needed to work on the tact thing.

Qui-Gon smiled. "What they have done, I did not – nor do I think the Council – ever expected. How, young Anakin, did you manage to get in here?"

"I'm not as concerned about getting in as I am getting out, because you're coming with me." Anakin used his firmest voice. "Obi-Wan is hurt too badly to come after you, and Padmé can't risk what it would mean to Naboo, but I'm taking you with me. You're coming home."

The Jedi merely smiled, "Anakin, I know your determination is true, but I am… not as I was. The consequences of your being caught would be dire, young one. And I am not talking about having Obi-Wan lecture you – there is something very dark afoot, a shadow in the heart of the fire that might be worse than the flames."

Anakin snorted. "Sifo-Dyas. I can handle him. All I have to do is…"

There was a sound in the corridor and faster than thought, Anakin dropped and rolled under the bed just as the door whisked silently aside. A pair of low, brown boots and a swirling hem of a red-brown robe came into his field of vision.

"I had to talk my way past a wall of healers to be permitted to carry your dinner to you, Qui-Gon," a woman's rich, warm voice spoke. 

"My thanks, Deepa." The bed above Anakin shifted and the coverings slipped a bit lower, hiding Anakin still further. 

The sound of a heat-shield being laid aside was followed by a very bland scent. If this was the food Qui-Gon had been eating, no wonder he was so thin! 

"Sifo-Dyas has been before the Council again today, not about you, he had that much sense – but about the faction of Jedi staying in the Embassy of the Naboo," the woman said. "Your Obi-Wan is gathering followers, Sifo-Dyas and his faction blame your 'apostasy' and 'intransigence' for his following. It's the first step in getting you back in his hands, my teacher."

Politics. Always dirty, filthy, bloody politics. Anakin struggled against a surge of rage so virulent that it nearly robbed him of breath. 

"If he does, he does, Deepa. If the Force so moves that my death is needed to heal the Jedi or break them apart and reforge them, then it will be." 

"You speak as one already gone from us. Master Jedi, some still need your wisdom and guidance, perhaps now more than ever." The voice moved back and forth as if the woman was pacing. "You have allies, Qui-Gon, on the council as well as in the Order, but we are few and increasingly outnumbered by the dogmatic and tradition-bound. Even if those who support you can only agree that we do support you, it is at least one thing we can agree on!"

"Deepa, you've been around the Council and politicians far too long," a rasping chuckle graced the words. "Say what you mean to say, dear child. You can always speak your mind to me."

"We… I…" a deep breath, " feel that you have to get out of here before the Convocation. I'm afraid that it might be easier for some to eulogize a safely dead unorthodox Jedi than to acknowledge a living maverick." 

"That may not be possible. I am weak, my friend. I tire simply from bathing or walking across the room, and there are too many watchers who guard not only me, but those who might aid me." The bed shifted again as Qui-Gon added, "They would be in danger, the currents of these intrigues may run deeper than we know." 

"But if some were willing to assume the risk? Willingly? After all Qui-Gon, you have always been able to find allies," the voice stopped, seeming to move lower, "Even in the most unlikely of places."

The covers leapt up, and Anakin found himself nose-to-nose with a smiling Deepa Bilaaba.

"Hello, Anakin."

~

Sometimes Padmé wondered why she had chosen a political life.

If one more unctuous fathead with delusions of intelligence spoke to her this evening, she'd happily take a lecture from Obi-Wan and Mace Windu just for the chance to cut the fool off at the knees. Was today the Feast of Idiots?

Still, she kept her polite smile firmly in place, her tones modulated. Master Windu also seemed to be developing a sense of when her temper was fraying – he was ever coming up with someone whom he knew she would be able to engage in conversation without becoming possessed of the desire to scream. 

Retreating to a small gallery overlooking a garden, she took a moment to inhale the rich air, heady with the scent of the greenery and night flowers. Her feet hurt from her new slippers, her face hurt from smiling, her head hurt from all various scents of food, drink, fragrance and species – praise be that it would be over soon. Her calendar was clear until Long Night, during which she would attend Palpatine's Inauguration during the morning and afternoon, then the Jedi Convocation in the evening. 

Anakin ought to be happy to have her to himself for the day – and she missed him terribly. It was so odd how they had simply fallen in together - one a part of the other while retaining such strong individuality. While very different people, each gave something to the other that had not been there before.

::: Ani? :::  Padmé sent a questing thought out to him and nearly withdrew when she felt his utter absorption in whatever he was doing.

::: Angel? How's the _bhash_? :::

Padmé's lips twitched even as she scolded Anakin for using that not-nice word. _Bhash_ was a Huttese term that meant several different things – public rump-kissing being one of them. ::: Where are you? At the arcade? I'm sorry to interrupt your game, it must be a good one from the way you're concentrating. :::

::: Padmé, it may be the best game of my life. I've never played anything like it. ::: Her friend's mental tone was exhilarated and she wondered at his enthusiasm. What could be more thrilling than pod racing or flying? 

::: I'll leave you to it then, Ani. Maybe I'll even come and join you in a couple of hours. It's the Fortune's Darling, right? :::

There was a long pause, ::: Right. I'll meet you out front when? It's a big place, you'll never find me unless I meet you. :::  
  
Padmé consulted her chrono and her sense of diplomatic timing. ::: Give me an hour to wind things up, another half to say my good-good byes, fifteen minutes to get back, a half an hour to get changed and I'll meet you shortly after. I'll take the airbus. :::

::: Get off at the Siadi Building, I'll meet you at the platform. :::  
  


::: See you then, Demon. You'll have to show me this game, too. :::

~

Deepa Bilaaba waited for Anakin to break communication. The little boy was remarkable in many ways, and she was rapidly revising her estimate of him. 

Anakin shook himself slightly as he shrugged off rapport. "We have a problem."

~

Jedi from all over the galaxy were filling the Temple, occupying rooms and floors and wings that had lain disused since the last Convocation. They pumped through the Hall of Convocation like blood through a heart.

From an isolated walkway, Darth Devastuus watched the thronging crowds below in the massive chamber. Yes, much like blood through the heart - but even a healthy heart could live in a dying body, pumping wild cells and toxins that would damage and kill. The healthy heart, wholly innocent, could even send a clot arcing into the brain, to block, rupture and eventually kill the body – in the process ending its own function.

The Jedi were already dead – they lacked only the terminal bleed to finish them off. 

As he turned away to go back to his tower room, a particular eddy in the flows of people below caught his eye. A woman led a small boy in a grey coverall and cap through the hall – the boy pulling a laden hoversled and consulting a datapad. 

Why would Deepa Bilaaba see personally to the posting of packages? She had an assistant to handle such mundane matters. And why would a messenger be so keen to hide his face? 

Irritated, the false Jedi shook the questions off. The Councilor was a Chaclatan and the celebration of that people's New Year demanded the giving of gifts. Messengers and other menials were often taken from the dregs of society – both human and alien. If the common beings were nervous around Jedi, then criminals like the boy were undoubtedly even more so. 

Still, there was something not right. A strange anticipation was nibbling at the edges of his certainty. Stalking from the hall, Sifo-Dyas went back to his rooms, there to open himself fully to the Dark side and seek his answers therein.

~

Padmé swung lightly on her toes as the airbus braked to a stop. Letting go of the hanging strap, she made her way to the doors with the rest of the crowd spilling onto the skystation platform. To all appearances, she was just another teen out to spend her allowance. The arcades of Coruscant were some of the most heavily monitored and safest places on the planet. Tourists and the children of the wealthy and connected played without concern here, knowing that the arcade owners were so fond of the cash flowing in their doors that they would spend lavishly to keep it coming in.

It took some time to find Ani, but he had stayed well back of the crowds. When he spotted her, he waved with great enthusiasm. "Hey, Pad!"

Greeting him with their customary hug – Obi-Wan had commented that it didn't matter if they were across the hall or across the world, they still hugged as if it had been a long journey – Padmé smiled as he took her arm. 

"Have you been having a good time, Ani?" The question was not really needed, her friend's eyes sparkled like blue diamonds. 

Anakin laughed, "Pad, my Angel, I can't even begin to tell you!"

~


	16. Some Other Future's Past 15

Dear readers;

Hello again, and once more I apologize for this taking so long between chapters. The next few bits will wrap this part of the story, but there will be more to come. After all, there's still Shmi to consider and Anakin has to face the most fearsome opponent of all – adolescence. 

As it comes, so I will post. 

Thanks for putting up with my RL stuff, other projects and all that - and please let me know what you think!

Sincerely,

Chaos

~

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter 15

~

It was a very good plan, Chaawushro had to give it that. To use tradition to free a most untraditional Jedi had a pleasing irony, as well. However…

"You are not well. Understand, though you gain strength rapidly, you also lose it rapidly – unless you rest, unless you are fully rested, you might well be on the floor before you can call your Question." The red-furred Wookie shook a clawed finger under Obi-Wan's nose. "I do not heal my patients to go into harm, nor would the fierce cub who protects you be pleased at being left behind."

Obi-Wan was trying to ignore the fact that Rabé – the aforementioned fierce cub – was in the room, fuming off to one side and shooting glares that should have left the scent of scorched ozone in their wake. 

Obi-Wan was going to the Convocation and every Jedi under Naboo's roof, every padawan, every knight and master was going with him. Over three hundred strong, all of whom wanted to do the same as Obi-Wan – to ask a question that only Qui-Gon Jinn could answer.

It was a hard thing for Obi-Wan to do, to lead them. When it had been only him to ask the question, he had looked forward to the challenge with a grim anticipation. Now that people intended to follow him, the young Jedi felt guilt. How could he not? He was about to take the order he loved, drive a wedge into its very heart and split it asunder. 

Chaawushro continued, "I will agree to your going, if and only if you rest deeply for today and tomorrow, and if – "

Rabé pirated the space after the 'if,' "You take me, Chaawushro and the handmaidens with you." 

"Out of the bloody question." Obi-Wan blinked as if surprised at his own vehemence and modulated his tone, "Not that you and the others are not capable, not that you are not discreet, but we are going into a temple – not a brawl."

Chaawushro spoke over the top of Rabé's reply, giving the girl an admonishing look. "And I want you to leave the small cub behind."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Anakin? Why?"

"Some cubs have made an art of finding trouble. You padawan, Anakin, is one such." The Wookie sighed,  "The cub is wild, but worse, he is fearless. He has _fears_, yes, I know, but for his own safety, there is none. There are those who would harm him, even within the temple, while you are distracted. Leave him here."

Obi-Wan was silent for a time. "I would like to think that he would obey such an order, yet I am having a hard time convincing myself of it."

Rabé snorted, "Either lock him in or give him to Eritaé, she can handle anything that he can come up with. You have to meet her brothers some time, Obi-Wan."

"The fierce cub speaks with wisdom, Jedi Knight." Chaawushro kept her tone light, but did not soften the rebuke. "Wisdom is rare, so take the gift when it is so freely offered."

Obi-Wan graced the healer with a wry look, and then bowed as best he could from bed. "I am informed that you are as wise as you are brave and gallant, oh handmaiden. It shall be as you desire."

Again a snort, but with a pleased smile, "About time you noticed, oh wise Jedi. And you've even loosened up enough to bow! Chaawushro, how did you ever get that bloody big stick out of his…"  
  
"Rabé!" Obi-Wan was turning interesting colors again. 

It was amusing to watch Obi-Wan and Rabé spar. Human courting rituals were subtle and complex, with the male often not aware that he was being courted. Once he became aware of the courting, the male would often believe it to be his own idea. The female would seldom enlighten him. 

Humans were just plain odd. 

~

Hope was a great, grand, liberating thing.

For the first time in many months Qui-Gon's sleep came deep, dreamless, and unassisted. He woke refreshed, ate, showered and slept some more wonderful, healing, soul-nourishing sleep. 

So much hope to pin on one woman and one little boy. 

Still, Deepa was a tremendously resourceful woman. Whatever she and Anakin had in mind, it was better that he knew nothing of it. There was still Sifo-Dyas to factor in, though Qui-Gon thought that the Council would rather just keep him immured in the infirmary. It might be awkward to explain the death of  a Jedi Mater presumable in the care of another more senior Jedi Master. 

Force knew that there was nothing and nobody going to get by the Healers, up to – and unfortunately – including Qui-Gon Jinn. 

Anakin did understand Qui-Gon's debility, thus while the mode of escape would be likely to exhaust him, it was not likely to kill him.

Well, not very likely, at least.

As long as Anakin wasn't driving.

Or flying – some things had reached Qui-Gon in his isolation. If Anakin tried to say that Qui-Gon ordered him to stay in the cockpit…!

Then again, considering the youngling's methods in a cockpit, nobody would ever be insane enough to follow them. The boy might even make a Corellian turn green and cry for mother.

The dumbot came in with his lunch. Lately the trays were being hermetically sealed in the kitchen – a grim sign if there ever was one. Had he really become so much of a lightning rod that someone would consider poisoning him?

It's not like he wouldn't notice. Qui-Gon would know immediately if someone had slipped anything into the food – considering how bland the food was, poison would probably add taste. 

Two days. Two days until whatever Deepa and Anakin had cooked up between them came to pass. Both had ordered him to rest, to be ready, to eat. Deepa had even managed to induce a low-grade fever that would make sure the Healers would keep him, but not bother him overmuch. They could not confide in anyone, for there were now eyes and ears everywhere, from every splinter of a faction within the Jedi.

And eyes and ears for some without. 

The more that Qui-Gon thought about it, the more puzzled he was. The Zabrak he had fought was young, at the peak of combat form. There was another Sith, that much he knew, but…

Was it possible that there were more? 

Though lore held that there were never more Sith extant than a Master and apprentice, something was tickling desperately at the edges of Qui-Gon's mind. 

Like a man trying to assemble a puzzle in the dark, Qui-Gon weighed each piece of knowledge and conjecture. Feeling the shapes and dimensions, he tried them together, seeking to make a whole. For a moment, he wryly wished that his master had been a bit more emphatic about contemplative pursuits.

There was one piece, one significant central point that all the other pieces hung upon, and he had to find it before it was too late for all of them.

~

Anakin was exhausted. Even after sleep, after food and meditation, he felt utterly drained.

He was passing it off as the simple tiredness of being out a good part of the night at the arcade with Padmé, but it was more than that. 

He was running a covert operation with nothing more than winnings, luck and guesswork. Worse, for one with so little trust, he had to trust that his operatives were trustworthy and that his operative's operatives were trustworthy all the way down the scale. If one factored in a few hundred Jedi, a Wookiee Healer whose very gaze hinted that she knew what Anakin was up to, and an abrupt increase in the attention being paid to him by Obi-Wan, the Healer and the handmaidens it was enough to make him jump right out of his skin.

Pleading schoolwork, he took to his rooms, alternating actually doing his work with frenetic bouts of text-messaging on a cloned comlink. 

In two days… 

Anakin felt his stomach lurch, his palms broke a sweat and for a moment, he was actually dizzy. The temptation to go find someone adult, confess and throw the whole mess into their hands was overwhelming. 

But people were relying on him. Deepa and Qui-Gon trusted him – and had advice that had actually relieved some of his worry-bags. If he handed this off now, went running like some little kid, the whole thing could blow apart and hurt more people than Qui-Gon. 

Obi-Wan. Padmé. The girls. The real Jedi. Whether they knew it or not, they were depending on him. 

_I need a race. _

Action would help. He could lose himself in the roar of engines and the smell of heated metal, leave his worries in a cloud of dust.

Since all of his supplies and equipment were stores in the garage at the racetrack, he could check up on those, too.  The gear he was to be using was not that much different from certain technology that he had handled before, but a little extra practice never hurt. 

Bringing up the race network on his datapad, he studied the evening's matches and which he was qualified to enter. The Cocotown district had plenty of matches tonight, and it was local. Steelton was a large industrial district, also local and with a good prize for negotiating a long and obstacle-laden course. Keying in his code, he entered two races in Cocotown for sheer speed and the one in Steelton for intricacy. To be lost in the eternal moment, to be so completely in what he thought of as 'now-time' was just what he needed. 

Then he stopped, cancelled and signed off. Padmé had tonight off, and tomorrow night as well. 

Anakin considered what might happen to him if Padmé caught him racing.

He shivered, swallowed. Perhaps he was simply too stressed, but for some reason dismemberment did not seem too farfetched. 

For a time, Anakin made himself sit still, breathe deeply. He needed to be the rock that the water flowed around. He needed to be the water flowing around the rock. 

"Find other ways," he spoke softly to himself. Maybe Padmé needed some time to depressurize, too? A sudden flash of shame made his ears burn. His angel needed some downtime, last night it had been as much fun to watch her having fun as it had been to have fun himself. 

Reactivating his datapad, he went hunting for something fun. No fancy dress, no politics, no 'must,' or 'do,' or 'don't' – a place for sheer escapism and nothing more.

And he found it. If the Fortune's Darling was an arcade The District was the mother of them all – fifty stories of games, sensies, restaurants, rides, easy races and all manner of diversions, all for one ticket price.

And what a price. Ouch.

Money had an almost talismanic power to Anakin. Those who said that money could not buy happiness were right, that he had to admit, but it made misery a lot more tolerable. Furthermore, it could buy something greater than happiness – money could buy freedom. 

He knew that there were people trying to find his mom and bring her to him, and he knew what it would cost. Anakin had been strictly forbidden to go and get her himself, though what the Naboo would make of Tattooine, he had no idea. Nor could he use any of the money in the trust that had been established for him – not until he reached his majority. 

Lately he'd been able to feel a little through his bond with his mother, to send his feelings out and to know – vaguely - how she was. Distance attenuated the emotions, but he could sense happy and busy, as well as lonely. 

Anakin felt pulled tight between two conflicting desires – to take Padmé out for a rollicking good time and to save against that nebulous someday when he'd have his mother to provide for while she got her freedom legs. There would be housing to think of, and getting her credentialed for her specialty, she'd need clothes and she was his family!

::: MOM! ::: He did not intend to do that, but the thought and the problem went zinging down the distance-thinned bond before he could take it back. 

BONEHEAD! If you woke her up or something… 

A gentle wave of emotion came washing back to him and for a moment Anakin let himself be just 'little Ani,' a ten-year-old boy who very badly missed his mother. Swallowing and blinking back a suspicious shimmer in his eyes, he concentrated simply on reciprocating the feelings. His mother might not be able to 'think at' him, but she must be sending powerful emotions along the bond if he could feel them at all. 

Love, care, reassurance – he fell into them as if into her arms. She was fine. All was well. She loved him. 

Anakin almost heard her, "Go, Ani, have fun. I'll be fine."

The feelings thinned, faded, and were gone – leaving only a glowing, nurturing warmth. Anakin sat within that feeling for a long time. When he moved, it was to go to his clothes chest, take out the money that he could explain and out it into his pockets. A quick brush of his hair, and he was stomping his feet into his boots and grabbing his jacket with a smile on his face.

~

Padmé's room was the scene of much flurry. Clothing was strewn about, shoes underfoot, and handmaidens lounging as they watched their Queen try to find something to wear. 

"He asked you on a date?"

Padmé threw a red silk slipper at Eritaé, who ducked. "It's not a date! Well, not a date kind of date. I mean, he's only ten!" 

"If it's not a date, then why are you dithering about what to wear?" Cordé grinned. "Even Palo didn't make you dither, Padmé."

The red slipper's made launched and Dormé neatly intercepted it. "It's like Anakin said, he's going to marry you. I'd wager it's the first proposal you've had."

Padmé rolled her eyes, "Of marriage, yes. You know the others that I've had."

The handmaidens snorted as one. To say that those propositions had been less formal than those of marriage was to lend them unwarranted dignity. Three-inch heels applied to the feet of those who issued such did much to effectively discourage further petitioning - as did Rabé's now infamous three-fingered threat to future progeny – now named the 'Paua Pinch.'

"Now," Padmé raised an eyebrow and looked at the girl herself, "if anyone could be said to be dithering, it's not me. I'm not the one who redid my entire wardrobe in shades of purple just because a certain Jedi complimented me on the color."

Rabé's aloof look was spoiled mightily by the stunning red of her cheeks. 

"Any progress, Rabé, or is our gallant and dutiful Captain Oblivious still without a clue?" Sabé smirked from her corner of the settee. "I swear, that's the type that you have to be… hmm…  very _direct_ with, and you're a bit young for that."

Rabé's blush deepened. "I think I'm making progress. I'd rather let it be his idea, though."

Saché nodded agreement. "No rush. Give him time to figure out what's going on for himself. Besides, didn't Healer Chaawushro give you the same advice? Patience, patience and more patience. Jedi Kenobi might have all kinds of experience, but courtship isn't one of them. He's bound to be a little slow on the uptake."

Rabé moved around the room, picking up clothing. "That and he needs to trust us a little more than he does! He's not going to let us come to the Convocation!" With a snort of disgust, she hurled the clothing onto one of the couches and flopped down beside it. " 'We are going into a temple – not a brawl,' '" he said."

Howls of outrage broke out and dire promises were made. The nerve! Their training was some of the best! Better than that of many planetary militias! Rabé looked miserable and her oath-sisters swore that they would help the densoid Jedi see things the right way – and would not leave bruises without Rabé's express permission. 

Padmé simply sat beside her friend and folded clothing, offering a hug when it was sought. 

Reaching into the pile of clothing, Rabé pulled out a blue change-silk tunic and held it critically against Padmé's shoulder as she gauged the color. "Ani always likes blue on you the best."

~

The night was amazing.

Anakin had fretted over protocol the whole time it took Padmé to get dressed. He was too short to take her arm properly, and if they were holding hands it might look as if she were leading him about like a little kid. Maybe he should just hold her forearm? Should he just keep to himself? What? 

When Padmé finally finished doing whatever it was that had taken two hours to do, Anakin was too awed at the result to complain. Loose blue change-silk trousers and a long tunic-robe shimmered from soft aquamarine to midnight blue and all the shades in between. A belt of gold links graced her waist and slender gold chains formed a cap over Padme's hair, the rich curls left free to wash about her shoulders. 

Anakin went back to his rooms and changed into some of his fancy clothes - midnight blue with the pale gold undertunic and sash. 

From the moment they stepped through the entrance to The District, it was as if the galaxy outside dropped away. Lunch was bought from a cart outside the Headhunter Mission sims, while dinner was eaten late at a sumptuous restaurant that featured some of the most stunning seascapes Padmé said she'd ever seen. The games resulted in a pile of prizes and service upgrades so that they were permitted to ever-higher levels in the complex. A concierge arranged to take their loot and send it to their address, while making sure that anything they might have whim to do was arranged promptly.

Even better, nobody knew who they were. Ani and Pad were just a pair of kids out for a good time. 

Anakin felt so good that he didn't even mind waiting while Padmé shopped with her District chits – something that she seemed to enjoy as much as Headhunter sims. 

Making good use of his own chits, Anakin bargained with shopkeepers – relishing the challenge, Coruscant was no backwater world with customer-starved merchants. Shopowners seldom worked their own shops, leaving that to hires who would never be able to afford most of the items that their clients picked with little more than a carelessly pointed finger. 

Anakin figured out that a lower price on an item was guaranteed if he slipped a chit to the being behind the counter. There were no 'droid attendants here, only live beings as the ultimate in swank servants. 

A long tunic is greens and blues for his mom. A necklace of intricate Liianti glass beads for Padmé. An antique Polora chime box for Obi-Wan. 

Finally, when their comunits vibrated and Mace Windu scolded them for being out until well after midnight, they turned back to the embassy. The concierge ordered them a plush aircab and off they went, blissfully tired and deeply relaxed. 

Bidding Padmé goodnight – heartened at seeing how much better she felt – Anakin went off to bed.

One more day. Only one more day.

He could get through that easily. No problem.

~


	17. Note from humbled author

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I offer my deepest thanks and appreciation for all your feedback and encouragement. Real life can be a war zone all it's own, and can sap not only your time, but also your creativity. However, your persistence in reading, reviewing, messaging and otherwise nudging me means that I cannot do otherwise.

I will finish 'Some Other Future's Past.'

Please look for new chapters starting on May 1, 2008.

With Thanks,

Chaos Rose


	18. Update on the update

Dear Readers:

Merry month of May is not so merry. Due to the following, the next chapter is delayed"

Beta's disappearance.

Fumigation of living space for termites.

Firing of coworker who apparently hid between three to four months of data entry under her desk.

Fibromyalgia flare and resulting problems with hands.

Second job's clients deciding that they all needed to update their sites. All of them. Within forty-eight hours of each other.

Crash of drive with story on it. YAY, Phoenix recovery software!

So, keep an eye out – and thanks for your patience.

Chaos, who is aptly named this month.


End file.
